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i V 



together they conversed for a 'feu minutes. 
From a drawing by A. B. FROST, 


THE NOVELS AND STORIES OE 
FRANK R. STOCKTON 

« i 


THE SQUIRREL INN 
THE MERRY CHANTER 




NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 

1899 




?Z3 


Copyright, 1889, 1890, 1891, 1899, by 
Frank R. Stockton 

•XWO COPIES RECEIVED. 



riSST GCr^Y, 


•n Q 

O ^ ^ • 


THE DEVINNE PRESS. 


THE SQUIRREL INN 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Steamboat Piee .... 3 

II The Baby, the Man, and the Mas- 

tery 

III Matthew Vassar 16 

IV Lodloe Undertakes to Nominate his 

Successor 25 

V The Landlord and his Inn . . 31 

VI The Greek Scholar .... 38 

VII Rockmores Ahead 43 

VIII Miss Mayberry 50 

IX The Preservation of Literature . 55 
X Rose versus Mayberry ... 61 

XI Lanigan Beam 70 

XII Lanigan Changes his Cravat . 80 

XIII Decrees of Exile . . . .85 

XIV Backing Out 90 

XV The Baby is Passed Around . . 97 

XVI Messrs. Beam and Lodloe Decline 

TO Wait for the Second Table 105 

XVII Bananas and Oats 117 

XVIII Sweet Peas 123 

XIX The Aroused Rose .... 132 


V 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XX An Ingenuous Maid .... 139 

XXI Twisted Trysts Ill 

XXII The Blossom and the Little Jar 155 

XXIII Hammerstein 160 

XXIV Translations 173 

xxv Mr. Tippengray Mounts High . .179 

xxvi Another Squirrel in the Tap-Eoom 186 

THE MERRY CHANTER 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I My Career is Ended .... 199 
II She is He, and it Is Ours . . 206 

III We Ship a Crew 211 

IV The Merry Chanter ” Sets Sail . 221 

V The Stowaway . . . . . 239 

VI The Man’on the Hill . . . 218 

VII Lord Crabstairs 255 

VIII Dolor Tripp 261 

IX The Merry Chanter ” and the Tide 271 

* ^ 

X Lord Crabstairs ’ and the Butcher 

Make an Agreement . . . 278 

XI The Promenade Bath . . . 281 

XII Dolor Tripp Takes Us under her 

Wing . 291 

XIII The Pie Ghost 305 

XIV What Griscom Brothers Got out of 

A Pumpkin-Pie 316 


VI 


CHAPTER 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


XV We are Loyal to the Merry 

Chanter ’’ 327 

XYi Dolor Tripp Sets Sail .... 335 

XVII How Lizeth and Alwilda Took It 342 

XVIII The Captains Speak . . . 350 

XIX Horrible Seaweeds Flap over Her 357 

XX The Collector of Antiques . ' . 366 

XXI The ^AIerry Chanter’^ Leaves Shank- 

ASHANK Bay 372 




!<■ 

' . i ■ 



THE SQUIRREL INN 


THE SQUIRREL INN 


CHAPTER I 

THE STEAMBOAT PIEE 

T he steamboat Manasquan was advertised to leave 
her pier on the east side of the city at half-past 
nine on a July morning. At nine o’clock Walter 
Lodloe was on the forward upper deck, watching the 
early passengers come on board, and occasionally 
smiling as his glance fell upon a tall man in a blue 
flannel shirt, who, with a number of other deck-hands, 
was hard at work transferring from the pier to the 
steamer the boxes, barrels, and bales of merchandise, 
the discouraging mass of which was on the point of 
being increased by the unloading of a newly arrived 
two-horse truck. 

Lodloe had good reason to allow himself his smiles 
of satisfaction, for he had just achieved a victory over 
the man in the blue shirt, and a victory over a busy 
deck-hand on a hot day is rare enough to be valuable. 
As soon as he had stepped on board, he had deposited 
his hand -baggage in a place of safety, and walked for- 
ward to see the men run on the freight. It was a 
lively scene, and being a student of incident, char- 
acter, and all that sort of thing, it greatly interested 

3 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

him. Standing by a strangely marked cask which 
had excited his curiosity^ he found himself in the 
way of the deck-hand in the blue shirt, who, with red 
face and sparkling forehead, had just wheeled two 
heavy boxes up the incline of the gang-plank, and 
was about to roll them with easy rapidity to the 
other side of the deck j but Lodloe, with his back 
turned and directly in front of him, made it necessary 
for him to make a violent swerve to the right or 
break the legs of a passenger. He made the swerve, 
missed Lodloe, and then, dumping his load, turned 
and swore at the young man with the promptness and 
accuracy of a cow-boy’s revolver. 

It was quite natural that a high-spirited young 
fellow should object to be sworn at, no matter what 
jirovocation he had given, and Lodloe not only ob- 
jected but grew very angry. The thing which in- 
stantly suggested itself to him, and which to most 
people would seem the proper thing to do, was to 
knock down the man. But this knocking-down busi- 
ness is a matter which should be approached with 
great caution. Walter was a strong young fellow and 
had had some practice in boxing, but it was not im- 
possible that, even with the backing of justifiable 
indignation, the conventional blow straight from the 
shoulder might have failed to fell the tall deck-hand. 

But even had Lodloe succeeded in stretching the 
insulting man upon the dirty deck, it is not at all 
probable that he would have stayed there. In five 
seconds there would have been a great fight, and it 
would not have been long before the young gentle- 
man would have found himself in the custody of a 
policeman. 


4 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

Lodloe’s common sense was capable of considerable 
tension without giving way, even under a strain like 
this, and, although pale with anger, he would not 
engage in a personal contest with a deck-hand on a 
crowded steamboat. But to bear the insult was almost 
impossible. Never before had he been subjected to 
such violent abuse. 

But in a flash he remembered something, and the 
man had scarcely turned his empty truck to go back 
to the pier, when Lodloe stepped in front of him and 
with a wave of the hand stopped him. 

Two nights before Lodloe had been sitting up late 
reading some papers on modern Italian history, and 
in the course of said reading had met with the text 
of the anathema maranatha pronounced by Pius IX. 
against disbelievers in his infallibility. The directness, 
force, and comprehensiveness of the expressions used 
in this composition made a deep impression upon 
Lodloe, and, as it was not very long, he had com- 
mitted it to memory, thinking that he might some 
time care to use it in quotation. Now it flashed upon 
him that the time had come to quote this anathema, 
and without hesitation he delivered the whole of it, 
fair and square, straight into the face of the petrifled 
deck-hand. 

Petrified immediately he was not. At first he 
flushed furiously, but after a few phrases he began 
to pale and to turn to living stone. Enough mobility, 
however, remained to allow him presently to raise his 
hand imploringly ; but Lodloe had now nearly finished 
his discourse, and with a few words more he turned 
and walked away. The deck-hand wiped his brow, 
took in a long breath, and went to work. If another 

5 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

passenger had got in his way, he would not have 
sworn at him. 

Therefore it was that, gently pleased by the sensa- 
tions of victory, Walter Lodloe sat on the upper deck 
and watched the busy scene. He soon noted that 
passengers were beginning to come down the pier in 
considerable numbers, and among these his eye was 
caught by a young woman wheeling a baby- carriage. 

When this little equipage had been pushed down 
nearly to the end of that side of the pier from which 
the passengers were going on board, it stopiDcd, and its 
motive power looked behind her. Presently she 
turned her head toward the steamer and eagerly 
scanned every j^art of it on which she could see 
human beings. In doing this she exhibited to Lodloe 
a very attractive face. It was young enough, it was 
round enough, and the brown eyes were large enough, 
to suit almost any one whose taste was not restricted 
to the lines of the old sculptors. 

When she completed her survey of the steamboat, 
the young woman turned the carriage around and 
wheeled it up the pier. Very soon, however, she re- 
turned, walking rapidly, and ran the little vehicle 
over the broad gang-plank on to the steamboat. How 
Lodloe lost sight of her ; but in about five minutes she 
appeared on the forward upper deck without the 
baby -carriage, and looking eagerly here and there. 
Hot finding what she sought, she hastily descended. 

The next act in this performance was the appear- 
ance of the baby- carriage, borne by the blue-shirted 
deck-hand, and followed by the young woman carry- 
ing the baby. The carriage was humbly set down by 
its bearer, who departed without looking to the right 

6 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

or left, and the baby was quickly deposited in it. 
Then the young woman stepped to the rail and looked 
anxiously upon the pier. As Lodloe gazed upon her 
it was easy to see that she was greatly troubled. She 
was expecting some one who did not come. Now she 
went to the head of the stairway and went down a 
few steps, then she came up again and stood unde- 
cided. Her eyes now fell upon Lodloe, who was 
looking at her, and she immediately approached 
him. 

Can you tell me, sir,” she said, exactly how long 
it will be before this boat starts ? ” 

Lodloe drew out his watch. 

In eight minutes,” he answered. 

If Lodloe had allowed himself to suppose that be- 
cause the young woman who addressed him was in 
sole charge of a baby-carriage she was a nurse or 
superior maid-servant, that notion would have in- 
stantly vanished when he heard her speak. 

The lady turned a quick glance towards the pier, 
and then moved to the head of the stairway, but 
stopped before reaching it. It was plain that she 
was in much perplexity. Lodloe stepped quickly 
toward her. 

Madam,” said he, you are looking for some one. 
Can I help you ? ” 

I am,” she said, I am looking for my nurse-maid. 
She promised to meet me on the pier. I cannot ima- 
gine what has become of her.” 

^‘Let me go and find her,” said Lodloe. “What 
sort of person is she ? ” 

“She isn’t any sort of person in particular,” an- 
swered the lady. “I couldn’t describe her. I will 

7 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

run down and look for ker myself, and if you 
will kindly see that nobody knocks over my baby I 
shall be much obliged to you.’^ 

Lodloe instantly undertook the charge, and the 
lady disappeared below. 


8 


CHAPTER II 


THE BABY, THE MAN, AND THE MASTERY 

The young man drew the baby-carriage to the bench 
by the rail, and, seating himself, gazed with interest 
upon its youthful occupant. This individual appeared 
to be about two years of age, with its mother’s eyes 
and a combative disposition. The latter was indi- 
cated by the manner in which it banged its own legs 
and the sides of its carriage with a wicker bludgeon 
that had once been a rattle. It looked earnestly at 
the young man, and gave the edges of its carriage a 
whack which knocked the bludgeon out of its hand. 
Lodloe picked up the weapon, and, restoring it to its 
owner, began to commune with himself. 

“It is the same old story,” he thought. “The 
mother desires to be rid of the infant j she leaves it 
for a moment in the charge of a stranger ; she is never 
seen again. However, I accept the situation. If she 
doesn’t come back this baby is mine. It seems like a 
good sort of baby, and I think I shall like it. Yes, 
youngster ; if your mother doesn’t come back you are 
mine. I shall not pass you over to the police or to 
any one else ; I shall run you myself.” 

It was now half-past nine. Lodloe arose and looked 
out over the pier. He could see nothing of the young 

9 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

mother. The freight was all on boards and they were 
hauling up the forward gang-plank. One or two be- 
lated passengers were hurrying along the pier ; the 
bell was ringing ; now the passengers were on board, 
the aft gang-plank was hauled in, the hawsers were 
cast off from the posts, the pilot’s bell jingled, the 
wheels began to revolve, and the great steamboat 
slowly moved from its pier. 

knew it,” said Lodloe, unconsciously speaking 
aloud, “she hadn’t the slightest idea of coming back. 
Now, then,” said he, “I own a baby, and I must con- 
sider what I am to do with it. One thing is certain, 
I intend to keep it. I believe I can get more solid 
comfort and fun out of a baby than I could possibly 
get out of a dog or even a horse.” 

Walter Lodloe was a young man who had adopted 
literature as a profession. Earlier in life he had 
worked at journalism, but for the last two years he 
had devoted himself almost entirely to literature pure 
and simple. His rewards, so far, had been slight, but 
he was not in the least discouraged, and hoped bravely 
for better things. He was now on his way to spend 
some months at a quiet country place of which he 
had heard, not for a summer holiday, but to work 
where he could live cheaply and enjoy outdoor life. 
His profession made him more independent than an 
artist— all he needed were writing-materials, and a 
post- office within a reasonable distance. 

Lodloe gazed with much satisfaction at his new ac- 
quisition. He was no stickler for conventionalities, and 
did not in the least object to appearing at his destination 
— where he knew no one— with a baby and a carriage. 

“ I’ll get some country girl to take care of it when 

10 


THE SQUIRREL INN 


I am busy,” he said, ^^and the rest of the time I’ll 
attend to it myself. I’ll teach it a lot of things, and 
from what I have seen of youngster- culture I shouldn’t 
wonder if I should beat the record.” 

At this moment the baby gave a great wave with 
its empty rattle, and, losing its hold upon it, the 
wicker weapon went overboard. Then, after feeling 
about in its lap, and i:>eering over the side of the car- 
riage, the baby began to whimper. 

“hTow, then,” thought the young man, ^‘here’s my 
chance. I must begin instantly to teach it that I am 
its master.” 

Leaning forward, he looked sternly into the child’s 
face, and in a sharp, quick tone said : 

“ Whoa ! ” 

The baby stopped instantly, and stared at its new 
guardian. 

“There,” thought Lodloe, “it is just the same with 
a baby as with a horse. Be firm, be decided ; it knows 
what you want, and it will do it.” 

At this instant the baby opened its mouth, uttered 
a wild wail, and continued wailing. 

Lodloe laughed. “ That didn’t seem to work,” said 
he ; and to quiet the little creature he agitated the 
vehicle, shook before the child his keys, and showed 
it his watch 5 but the wails went on with persistent 
violence. The baby’s face became red, its eyes 
dropped tears. 

The young man looked around him for assistance. 
The forward upper deck was without an awning, and 
was occupied only by a few men, the majority of the 
passengers preferring the spacious and shaded after- 
deck. Two of the men were laughing at Lodloe. 

11 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

‘‘ That’s a new way,” one of them called out to him, 
to shut up a young one. Did it ever work ? ” 

^^It didn’t this time,” answered Lodloe. ‘‘Have 
you any young ones? ” 

“Five,” answered the man. 

“ And how do yon stop them when they howl like 
that? ” 

“I leave that to the old woman,” was the answer, 
“and when she’s heard enough of it she spanks 
’em.” 

Lodloe shook his head. That method did not suit 
him. 

“ If you’d run its wagon round the deck,” said an- 
other man, “ perhaps that would stop it. I guess you 
was never left alone with it before.” 

Lodloe made no reply to this supposition, but began 
to wheel the carriage around the deck. Still the baby 
yelled and kicked. An elderly gentleman who had 
been reading a book went below. 

“ If you could feed it,” said one of the men who had 
spoken before, “ that might stop it ; but the best thing 
you can do is to take it down to its mother.” 

Lodloe was annoyed. He had not yet arranged in 
his mind how he should account for his possession of 
the baby, and he did not want an explanation forced 
upon him before he was ready to make it. These men 
had come on board after the departure of the young 
woman, and could know nothing of the facts, and 
therefore Lodloe, speaking from a high, figurative 
standpoint, settled the matter by shaking his head 
and saying : 

“ That can’t be done. The little thing has lost its 
mother.” 


12 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

The man who had last spoken looked compassion- 
ately at Lodloe. 

“ That’s a hard case/’ he said. I know all about 
it, for I’ve been in that boat myself. My wife died 
just as I was going to sail for this country, and I had 
to bring over the two babies. I was as seasick as 
blazes, and had to take care of ’em night and day. I 
tell you, sir, you’ve got a hard time ahead of you. But 
feedin’ ’s the only thing. I’ll get you something. Is 
it on milk yet, or can it eat biscuit ? ” 

Lodloe looked at the open mouth of the vociferous 
infant, and saw teeth. 

“Biscuit will do,” he said, “or perhaps a banana. 
If you can get me something of the sort I shall be 
much obliged,” and he gave the man some money. 

The messenger soon returned with an assortment of 
refreshments, among which, happily, was not a banana, 
and the baby soon stopped wailing to suck an enor- 
mous stick of striped candy. Quiet having been 
restored to this part of the vessel, Lodloe sat down to 
reconsider the situation. 

“ It may be,” he said to himself, “ that I shall have 
to take it to an asylum, but I shall let it stay there 
only during the period of unintelligent howling. 
When it is old enough to understand that I am its 
master, then I shall take it in hand again. It is ridic- 
ulous to suppose that a human being cannot be as 
easily trained as a horse.” 

The more he considered the situation the better he 
liked it. The possession of a healthy and vigorous 
youngster without encumbrances was to him a novel 
and delightful sensation. 

“ I hope,” he said to himself, “ that when the coun- 

13 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

try girl dresses it she will find no label on its clothes, 
nor any sign which might enable one to discover the 
original owners. I don’t want anybody coming up to 
claim it after we’ve got to be regular chums.” 

When the boat made its first landing the two men 
who had given advice and assistance to Lodloe got olf, 
and as the sun rose higher the forward deck became so 
unpleasantly warm that nearly everybody left it ; but 
Lodloe concluded to remain. The little carriage had 
a top which sufficiently shaded the baby, and as for 
himself, he was used to the sun. If he went among 
the other passengers they might ask him questions, 
and he was not prepared for these. What he wanted 
was to be let alone until he reached his landing-place, 
and then he would run his baby-carriage ashore, and 
when the steamboat had passed on he would be master 
of the situation, and could assume what position he 
chose toward his new possession. 

‘^When I get the little bouncer to Squirrel Inn I 
shall be all right, but I must have the relationship 
defined before I arrive there.” And to the planning 
and determination of that he now gave his mind. 

He had not decided whether he should create an 
imaginary mother who had died young, consider him- 
self the uncle of the child, whose parents had been lost 
at sea, or adopt the little creature as a brother or a 
sister, as the case might be, when the subject of his 
reflections laid down its stick of candy and began a 
violent outcry against circumstances in general. 

Lodloe’s first impulse was to throw it overboard. 
Kepressing this natural instinct, he endeavored to 
quiet the infantile turbulence with offers of biscuit, 
fresh candy, ginger-cakes, and apples, but without 

14 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

effect. The young bewailer would have nothing to 
do with any of these enticements. 

Lodloe was puzzled. I have got to keep the thing 
quiet until we land/’ he thought, “ then I will imme- 
diately hire some one to go with me and take charge 
of it ; but I can’t stand this uproar for two hours 
longer.” 

The crying attracted the attention of other people, 
and presently a country woman appeared from below. 

“What is the matter with it?” she asked. “I 
thought it was some child left here all by itself.” 

“What would you do with it?” asked Lodloe, 
helplessly. 

“You ought to take it up and walk it about until 
its mother comes,” said the woman ; and having given 
this advice, she returned below to quiet one of her own 
offspring, who had been started off by the sounds of 
woe. 

Lodloe smiled at the idea of carrying the baby 
about until its mother came ; but he was willing to 
do the thing in moderation, and taking up the child 
resolutely, if not skilfully, he began to stride ap and 
down the deck with it. 

This suited the youngster perfectly, and it ceased 
crying and began to look about with great interest. 
It actually smiled into the young man’s face, and, 
taking hold of his mustache, began to use it as a 
door-bell. 

“This is capital,” said Lodloe, “we are chums 
already.” And as he strode he whistled, talked baby- 
talk, and snapped his fingers in the face of the admir- 
ing youngster, who slapped at him, and laughed, and 
did its best to kick off the bosom of his shirt. 


15 


CHAPTER III 


MATTHEW VASSAR 

In the course of this sociable promenade the steam- 
boat stopped at a small town, and it had scarcely 
started again when the baby gave a squirm which 
nearly threw it out of its bearer^s arms. At the same 
instant he heard quick steps behind him, and turning, 
he beheld the mother of the child. At the sight his 
heart fell. Gone were his plans, his hopes, his little 
chum. 

The young woman was flushed and panting. 

“ Upon my word ! ’’ was all she could say as she 
clasped the child, whose little arms stretched out 
toward her. She seated herself upon the nearest 
bench. In a few moments she looked from her baby 
to Lodloe. She had not quite recovered her breath, 
and her face was flushed, but in her eyes and on her 
mouth and dimpled cheeks there was an expression of 
intense delight mingled with amusement. 

^AVill you tell me, sir,” she said, ‘^how long you 
have been carrying this baby about? And did you 
have to take care of it ? ” 

Lodloe did not feel in a very good humor. By not 
imposing upon him as he thought she had done, she 
had deceived and disappointed him. 

16 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

Of course I took care of it,” he said, as you left 
it ill my charge ; and it gave me a lot of trouble, I 
assure you. For a time it kicked up a dreadful row. 
I had the advice of professionals, but I did all the 
work myself.” 

am very sorry,” she said, ‘‘but it does seem ex- 
tremely funny that it should have happened so. 
What did you think had become of me?” 

“I supposed you had gone off to whatever place 
you wanted to go to,” said Lodloe. 

She looked at him in amazement. 

“Do you mean to say,” she exclaimed, “that you 
thought I wanted to get rid of my baby, and to palm 
him off on you — an utter stranger?” 

“That is exactly what I thought,” he answered. 
“Of course, people who want to get rid of babies 
donT palm them off on friends and acquaintances. 
I am very sorry if I misjudged you, but I think you 
will admit that, under the circumstances, my supposi- 
tion was a very natural one.” 

“ Tell me one more thing,” she said : “ what did you 
intend to do with this child?” 

“ I intended to bring it up as my own,” said Lodloe, 
“ I had already formed plans for its education.” 

The lady looked at him in speechless amazement. 
If she had known him she would have burst out 
laughing. 

“ The way of it was this,” she said presently. “ I 
ran off the steamboat to look for my nurse -maid ; and 
if I hadn’t thought of first searching through the other 
parts of the boat to see if she were on board I should 
have had plenty of time. I found her waiting for me 
at the entrance of the pier, and when I ran toward 

17 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

her, all she had to say was that she had made up her 
mind not to go into the country. I was so excited, 
and so angry at her for playing such a trick on me at 
the last moment, that I forgot how time was passing, 
and that is why I was left behind. But it never en- 
tered my mind that any one would think that I in- 
tended to desert my baby, and I didn’t feel afraid, 
either, that he wouldn’t be taken care of. I had seen 
ever so many women on board, and some with babies 
of their own, and I did not doubt that some of these 
would take charge of him. 

‘‘ As soon as I saw that the steamboat had gone, I 
jumped into a cab, and went to the West Bank Kail- 
road, and took the first train for Scurry, where I knew 
the steamboat stopped. The ticket agent told me he 
thought the train would get there about forty minutes 
before the boat ; but it didn’t, and I had to run every 
inch of the way from the station to the wharf, and 
then barely got there in time.” 

‘‘You managed matters very well,” said Lodloe. 

“ I should have managed better,” said she, “ if I had 
taken my baby ashore with me. In that case I should 
have remained in the city until I secured another 
maid. But why did you trouble yourself with the 
child, especially when he cried!” 

“Madam,” said Lodloe, “you left that little crea- 
ture in my charge, and it never entered my mind to 
hand it over to anybody else. I took advice, as I told 
you, but that was all I wanted of any one until I went 
ashore, and then I intended to hire a country girl to 
act as its nurse.” 

“ And you really and positively intended to keep it 
for your own! ” she asked. 

18 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

“ I did/’ lie answered. 

At this the lady could not help laughing. In all 
my life/’ she said, ‘‘I never heard of anything like 
that. But I am just as much obliged to yon, sir, as if 
I were acquainted with you ; in fact, more so.” 

Lodloe took out his card and handed it to her. She 
read it, and then said : 

‘‘I am Mrs. Robert Cristie of Philadelphia. And 
now I will take my baby to the other end of the boat, 
where it is more sheltered, but not without thanking 
you most heartily for your very great kindness.” 

‘‘If you are going aft,” said Lodloe, “let me help 
you. If you will take the baby, I will bring its car- 
riage.” 

In a few minutes the mother and child were en- 
sconced in a shady spot on the lower deck, and then 
Lodloe, lifting his hat, remarked : 

“As I suppose two people cannot become conven- 
tionally acquainted without the intervention of a 
third person, no matter how little each may know 
of said third party, I must take my leave ; but 
allow me to say, that, if you require any further 
assistance, I shall be most happy to give it. I shall be 
on the boat until we reach Romney.” 

“ That is where I get off*,” she said. 

“ Indeed ! ” said he, “ then perhaps you will engage 
the country girl whom I intended to hire.” 

“Do you know any one living there,” she asked, 
“who would come to me as nurse-maid?” 

“ I don’t know a soul in Romney,” said Lodloe, “ I 
never was in the place in my life. I merely supi^osed 
that in a little town like that there were girls to be 
hired. I don’t intend to remain in Romney, to be 

19 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

/V' 

sure, but I thought it would be much safer to engage 
a girl there than to trust to getting one in the country 
place to which I am going/^ 

‘‘And you thought out all that, and about my 
baby?’’ said Mrs. Cristie. 

“Yes, I did,” said Lodloe, laughing. 

“Very well,” said she, “I shall avail myself of your 
forethought, and shall try to get a girl in Eomney. 
Where do you go when you leave there ? ” 

“Oh, I am going some five or six miles from the 
town, to a place called the ‘ Squirrel Inn.’ ” 

“ The Squirrel Inn ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Cristie, drop- 
ping her hands into her lap and leaning forward. 

“Yes,” said Lodloe, “are you going there?” 

“ I am,” she answered. 

Now in his heart Walter Lodloe blessed his guardian 
angel that she had prompted him to make the an- 
nouncement of his destination before he knew where 
this lady was going. 

“ I am very glad to hear that,” he said. “ It seems 
odd that we should happen to be going to the same 
place ; and yet it is not so very odd, after all, for people 
going to the Squirrel Inn must take this boat and land 
at Eomney, which is not on the railroad.” 

“ The odd part of it is that so few people go to the 
Squirrel Inn,” said the lady. 

“ I did not know that,” remarked Lodloe j “ in fact, 
I know very little about the place. I have heard it 
spoken of, and it seems to be just the quiet, restful 
place in which I can work. I am a literary man, and 
like to work in the country.” 

“Do you know the Eockmores of Germantown?” 
asked Mrs. Cristie. 


20 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

“ I never heard of them/’ he answered. 

“Well, then, you may as well stay on board this 
steamboat and go back home in her,” said Mrs. Cristie. 
“ If you do not know the Rockmores of Germantown 
Stephen Fetter will not take you into his inn. I 
know all about the place. I was there with my hus- 
band three years ago. Mr. Fetter is very particular 
about the guests he entertains. Several years ago, 
when he opened the inn, the Rockmores of German- 
town spent the summer with him, and he was so 
impressed with them that he will not take any- 
body unless they know the Rockmores of German- 
town.” 

“ He must be a ridiculous old crank,” said Lodloe, 
drawing a camp-chair near to the lady and seating 
himself thereon. 

“ In one way he is not a crank,” said Mrs. Cristie : 
“you can’t turn him. When he has made up his 
mind about anything, that matter is settled and fixed 
just as if it were screwed down to the floor.” 

“ From what I had been told,” said the young man, 
“I supposed the Squirrel Inn to be a free-and-easy 
place.” 

“ It is, after you get there,” said Mrs. Cristie, “ and 
the situation and the surroundings are beautiful, and 
the air is very healthful. My husband was Captain 
Cristie of the navy. He was in bad health when he 
went to the Squirrel Inn, but the air did him good, 
and if we had stayed all winter, as Stephen Fetter 
wanted us to, it would have been a great advantage 
to him. But when the weather grew cool we went to 
New York, where my husband died early in the fol- 
lowing December.” 


21 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

I will take my chances with Stephen Fetter/’ said 
Lodloe, after a suitable pause. am going to the 
Squirrel Inn^ and I am bound to stay there. There 
must be some road not through Germantown by which 
a fellow can get into the favor of Mr. Fetter. Fer- 
haps you will say a good word for me, madam? ” 

“ I don’t know any good word to say/’ she answered, 
except that yon take excellent care of babies, and I 
am not at all sure that that would have any weight 
with Stephen Fetter. Since you are going to the inn, 
and since we have already talked together so much, I 
wish I did proj^erly know you. Did you ever have a 
sister at Yassar? ” 

“ I am sorry to say,” said Lodloe, “ that I never had 
a sister at that college, though I have one who wanted 
very much to go there 5 but instead of that she went 
with an aunt to Eurojie, where she married.” 

An American?” asked Mrs. Cristie. 

^^Yes,” said Lodloe. 

“ M^hat was his name ? ” 

Tredwell.” 

never heard of him,” said the lady. There 
don’t seem to be any threads to take hold of.” 

“Ferhaps you had a brother at Frinceton,” re- 
marked Lodloe. 

have no brother,” said she. 

There was now a pause in the dialogue. The young 
man was well pleased that this very interesting young 
woman wished to know him i^roperly, as she -put it, 
and if there could be found the least bit of foundation 
on which might be built a conventional acquaintance 
he was determined to find it. 

‘AVere you a Yassar girl?” he asked. 

22 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

yes/’ said Mrs. Cristie, was there four 

years.” 

Perhaps you know something of old Matthew 
Yassar, the founder?” 

Mrs. Cristie laughed. ^‘I’ve heard enough about 
him, you may be sure ; but what has he to do with 
anything ? ” 

once slept in his room,” said Lodloe,— “in the 
Founder’s Eoom, with all his stiff old furniture, and 
his books, and his portrait.” 

“You!” cried Mrs. Cristie. “When did you do 
that?” 

“It was two years ago this spring,” said Lodloe. 
“I was up there getting material for an article on 
the college which I wrote for the ^Bayside Maga- 
zine.’ ” 

“Did you write that?” said Mrs. Cristie. “I read 
it, and it was just as full of mistakes as it could be.” 

“ That may be, and I don’t wonder at it,” said the 
young man. “I kept on taking in material until I 
had a good deal more than I could properly stow 
away in my mind, and it got to be too late for me to 
go back to the town, and they had to put me into the 
Founder’s Boom, because the house was a good deal 
crowded. Before I went to bed I examined all the 
things in the room. I didn’t sleep well at all, for 
during the night the old gentleman got down out of 
his frame, and sat on the side of my bed, and told me 
a lot of things about that college which nobody else 
ever knew, I am sure.” 

“ And I suppose you mixed up all that information 
with what the college people gave you,” she said. 

“ That may be the case,” answered Lodloe, laughing, 

23 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

“ for some of the old gentleman’s points were very in- 
teresting, and made a deep impression upon me.” 

Well,” said Mrs. Cristie, speaking very emphati- 
cally, ‘‘when I had finished reading that article I 
very much wished to meet the person who had written 
it, so that I might tell him what I thought of it ; hut 
of course I had no idea that the founder had anything 
to do with its inaccuracies.” 

“ Madam,” said Lodloe, “ if it had not been for the 
mistakes in it you never would have thought of the 
man who wrote the paper ,* but you did think of him, 
and wanted to meet him. i^'ow, it seems to me that 
we have been quite properly introduced to each 
other, and it was old Matthew Vassar who did it. I 
am sure I am very much obliged to him.” 

Mrs. Cristie laughed. “I don’t know what the 
social authorities would say to such an introduction,” 
she answered, “ but as baby is asleep, I shall take him 
into the saloon.” 


24 


CHAPTER IV 


LODLOE UNDERTAKES TO NOMINATE HIS SUCCESSOR 

It was late in the afternoon when the Romney pas- 
sengers were landed, and Mrs. Cristie and Lodloe, with 
a few other persons, repaired to the village hotel. 

“There is a sort of stage-wagon,” said the lady, 
“which takes people from this house to the Squirrel 
Inn, and it starts when the driver is ready 5 but before 
I leave Romney I must try to find some one who will 
go with me as nurse-maid.” 

“ Madam,” said Lodloe, “ don’t think of it. I have 
made inquiries of the landlord, and he says the roads 
are rough, and that it will take more than an hour to 
reach the Squirrel Inn, so that if you do not start 
now I fear you and the baby will not get there before 
dark. I prefer to stay here to-night, and it will be 
no trouble at all for me to look up a suitable person 
for you, and to take her with me to-morrow. It will 
be a good plan to take four or five of them, and when 
you have selected the one you like best the others can 
come back here in the wagon. It will be a lark for 
them.” 

Mrs. Cristie drew a long breath. “ Truly,” she said, 
“your proposition is phenomenal. Half a dozen 
nurse-maids in a wagon, from whom I am to pick and 

25 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

choose ! The thing is so startling and novel that I 
am inclined to accept. I should very much dislike to 
be on the road after dark^ and if you have planned 
to stay here to-night^ and if it will not be much 
trouble—’’ 

“Say not another word,” cried Lodloe ; “project 
your mind into to-morrow morning, and behold a 
wagon-load of willing maidens at the door of the inn.” 

When Mrs. Cristie and the baby and an elderly 
woman who lived in Lethbury, a village two miles 
beyond the Squirrel Inn, had started on their journey, 
Walter Lodloe set about the task he had undertaken. 
It was still hot, and the Eomney streets were dusty, 
and after an hour or two of inquiry, walking, and 
waiting for people who had been sent for, Lodloe 
found that in the whole village there was not a female 
from thirteen to seventy-three who would think of 
such a thing as leaving her home to become nurse- 
maid to a city lady. He went to bed that night a 
good deal chagrined, and not in the least knowing 
what he was going to do about it. 

In the morning, however, the thing to do rose clear 
and plain before him. 

“ I can’t go to her and tell her I’ve failed,” he said 
to himself. “ A maid must be got, and I have under- 
taken to get one. As there is nobody to be had here, 
I must go back to the city for one. There are plenty 
of them there.” 

So when the early morning boat came along he took 
passage for the nearest railroad station on the river, 
for he wished to lose no time on that trip. 

The elderly lady who was going to Lethbury took 

26 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

a great interest in Mrs. Cristie, who was to be her 
only fellow-passenger. She was at the hotel with her 
carpet-bag and her paper bundle some time before 
the big spring-wagon was ready to starts and she gave 
earnest attention to the loading thereon of Mrs. 
Cristie’s trunk and the baby-carriage. When they 
were on their way the elderly woman promptly began 
the conversation. 

“ I think,” said she to Mrs. Cristie, that I’ve seed 
you before.” 

Perhaps so,” said the other, I was in this region 
three years ago.” 

“Yes, yes,” said the elder woman, “I thought I 
was right. Then you had a husband and no child. 
It now looks as if you had a child and no husband.” 

Mrs. Cristie informed her that her surmise was 
correct. 

“Well, well,” said the elderly woman, “I’ve had 
’em both, and it’s hard to say which can be spared 
best j but as we’ve got nothin’ to do with the sparin’ 
of ’em, we’ve got ter rest satisfied. After all, they’re 
a good deal like lilock bushes, both of ’em. They 
may be cut down and grubbed up, and a parsley bed 
made on the spot j but some day they sprout up ag’in, 
and before you know it you’ve got just as big a bush 
as ever. Does Stephen Fetter know you’re cornin’ ? ” 

“ Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Cristie, quite willing to change 
the subject, “all that is arranged. I was so pleased 
with the place when I was here before, and Mrs. 
Fetter was so good to me, that I quite long to spend 
a summer there with my child.” 

“ Well, I’m glad he knows you are cornin’ ; but if he 
didn’t, I was goin’ ter say to you that you’d better go 

27 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

on to Lethbury, and then see what you could do with 
Stephen to-morrow. It’s no use stoppin’ at his house 
without givin’ notice, and like as not it ain’t no use 
then.” 

“Is Mr. Fetter’s house filled?” asked Mrs. Cristie. 

“ Filled ! ” said the elderly woman. “ There’s no- 
body on the place but his own family and the 
Greek.” 

“ Greek ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Cristie. 

“Yes,” said the other, “he keeps a Greek in an 
outhouse, but what for nobody knows. I think 
Stephen Fetter is gettin’ more oncommon than he 
was. If he wants to get custom for his house the best 
thing he can do is to die. There ain’t no other way, 
for Stephen’s not goin’ to do no changin’ of himself. 
My niece, Calthea Rose, the daughter of Dan’ el Rose, 
who used to keep the store,— she keeps it now herself, 
— goes over there a good deal, for she’s wonderful 
partial to Susan Fetter, and there’s a good reason for 
it too, for a better woman never lived, and the walk 
over there is mostly shady, or through the fields, to 
both of which Calthea is partial, and so she knows 
most things that’s goin’ on at the Squirrel Inn, which 
latterly has not been much, except the cornin’ of the 
Greek ; an’ as nobody has been able to get at the 
bottom of that business, that isn’t much, neither.” 

“ I think I remember Miss Calthea Rose,” said Mrs. 
Cristie. “She was tall, wasn’t she, with a very fair 
complexion? ” 

“Yes,” said the elderly woman, “and it’s just as 
fair now as it was then. Some of it’s owin’ to sun- 
bonnet, and some of it to cold cream. Calthea isn’t 
as young as she was, but she’s wonderful lively on her 

28 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

feet yit^ and there ain^t many that could get ahead of 
her walkin’ or bargainin’.” 

And she keeps the store?” asked Mrs. Cristie. 

“Yes,” said the other, “she keeps it, and in more 
ways than one. You see, when Dan’ el died — and that 
was two years ago last March— he left everything to 
Calthea, and the store with the rest. Before he died 
he told her what he had done, and advised her to sell 
out the stock, and put the money into somethin’ that 
would pay good interest ; and this she agreed to do, 
and this she is doing now. She wouldn’t consent to 
no auction, for she knew well enough the things 
wouldn’t bring more’n half they cost, so she under- 
took herself to sell ’em all out at retail, just as her 
father intended they should be sold when he bought 
’em. Well, it’s took her a long while, and, in the 
opinion of most folks, it’ll take her a long while yit. 
You see, she don’t lay in no new goods, but just keeps 
on soilin’, or tryin’ to sell, what she’s got on hand. 

“ It was purty easy to get rid of the groceries, and 
the iron and wooden things got themselves sold some 
way or other j but old dry -goods, with never any new 
ones to lighten ’em up, is about as humdrum as old 
people without youngsters in the family. Now, it 
stands to reason that when a person goes into a store 
and sees nothin’ but old calicoes, and some other odds 
and ends, gettin’ mustier and dustier and a little more 
fly-specked every time, and never a new thing, even 
so much as a spool of cotton thread, then persons isn’t 
likely to go often into that store, specially when 
there’s a new one in the village that keeps up to the 
times. 

“ Now, that’s Calthea Bose’s way of doin’ business. 

29 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

She undertook to sell out them goods^ and she’s goin’ 
to keep on till she does it. She is willin’ to sell some 
of the worst-lookin’ things at cost, but not a cent below 
that, for if she does she loses money, and that isn’t 
Calthea Kose. I guess, all put together, she hasn’t 
sold more’n ten dollars’ worth of goods this year, and 
most of them was took by the Greek, though what he 
wants with ’em is more’n I know.” 

“ I am sorry to hear that there are no guests at the 
Squirrel Inn,” was Mrs. Cristie’s only reply to this 
information. 

‘^Oh, you needn’t give yourself no trouble about 
loneliness and that sort of thing,” said the elderly 
woman, “before to-morrow night the whole house 
may be crowded from cockloft to potato-cellar. It 
never has been yit, but there’s no tellin’ what Stephen 
Petter has a-brewin’ in his mind.” 


30 


CHAPTER V 


THE LANDLORD AND HIS INN 

Stephen Fetter was a man of middle age^ who had 
been born on a farm^ and who, apparently, had been 
destined to farm a farm. But at the age of thirty, 
having come into a moderate inheritance, he devoted 
himself more to the business of cultivating himself and 
less to that of cultivating his fields. 

He was a man who had built himself up out of books. 
His regular education had been limited, but he was 
an industrious reader, and from the characters of this 
and that author he had conceived an idea of a sort of 
man which pleased his fancy, and to make himself 
this sort of man he had given a great deal of study 
and a great deal of hard labor. The result was that 
he had shaped himself into something like an old- 
fashioned country clergyman, without his education, 
his manners, his religion, or his clothes. Imperfect 
similitudes of these Stephen Fetter had acquired, but 
this was as far as he had gone. A well-read man who 
happened also to be a good judge of human nature 
could have traced back every obvious point of Stephen 
Fetter’s character to some English author of the last 
century or the first half of this one. 

31 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

It was rather odd that a man like this should be the 
landlord of an inn. But everything about Stephen 
Fetter was odd, so ten years before he had conceived 
the notion that such a man as he would like to be 
would be entirely unwilling to live in the little vil- 
lage of Lethbury, where he had no opportunity of 
exercising an influence upon his feUow-beings. Such 
an influence he thought it fit to exercise, and as he 
was not qualified to be a clergyman or a physician 
or a lawyer, he resolved to keep a tavern. This 
vocation would bring him into contact with fellow- 
beings ; it would give him opportunities to control, 
impel, and retard. 

Stephen Fetter did not for a moment think of buy- 
ing the Lethbury Hotel,’’ nor of establishing such a 
house as was demanded by the village. What he had 
read about houses of entertainment gave him no such 
motives as these. Fortunately he had an opportunity 
of carrying out his plan according to the notions he 
had imbibed from his books. 

Some years before Stephen Fetter had decided upon 
his vocation, a rich gentleman had built himself a 
country-seat about two miles out of Lethbury. This 
house and its handsome grounds were the talk and 
the admiration of the neighborhood. But the owner 
had not occupied his country home a whole summer 
before he determined to make a still more attractive 
home of it by lighting it with a new-fashioned gas of 
domestic manufacture. He succeeded in lighting not 
only his house but the whole country-side, for one 
moonless night his mansion was burned to the ground. 
Nothing was left of the house but the foundations, and 
on these the owner felt no desire to build again. He 

32 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

departed from the Lethbury neighborhood and never 
came back. 

When Mr. Fetter became impressed with the belief 
that it would be a good thing for him to be an inn- 
keeper, he also became impressed with the belief 
that the situation which the rich man had chosen for 
his country home would be an admirable one for his 
purposes. He accordingly bought the property at a 
very reasonable price, and on the stone foundations of 
the house which had been burned he built his inn. 

This edifice was constructed very 'much as he had 
endeavored to construct himself. His plans for one 
part of it were made up from the descriptions in one 
of his books, and those of another part from the de- 
scriptions or pictures in some other book. Portions 
of the structure were colonial, others were old English, 
and others again suggested the Swiss chalet or a cha- 
teau in Hormandy. There was a tall tower and there 
were some little towers. There were peaks here and 
there, and different kinds of slopes to the various 
roofs, some of which were thatched, some shingled in 
fanciful ways, and some covered with long strips or 
slabs. There were a good many doors and a good 
many windows, and these were of different forms, 
sizes, and periods, some of them jutting boldly outward, 
and some appearing anxious to shrink out of sight. 

It took a great deal of thought and a good deal of 
labor to build this house ; which was also true of Mr. 
Fetter’s character. But the first-named work was the 
more difacult of the two, for in building up himself 
he consulted with no one, while in planning his inn 
he met with all sorts of opposition from the village 
workmen and builders. 


33 


THE SQUIRREL INN 


But, at the cost of all the time that was needed and 
all the money he could spare, he had his house built 
as he wanted it 5 and when it was finished it seemed to 
exhibit a trace of nearly everything a house should 
possess excepting chronology and paint. Mr. Fetter 
had selected with a great deal of care the various 
woods of which his house was built, and he decidedly 
objected to conceal their hues and texture by monot- 
onous paint. The descriptions that he had read of 
houses seldom mentioned paint. 

The interior was not in the least monotonous. The 
fioors of the rooms, even in the same story, were seldom 
upon the same level 5 sometimes one entered a room 
from a hallway by an ascent of two or three steps, 
while access to others was obtained by going down 
some steps. The inside was subordinated in a great 
degree to the outside : if there happened to be a 
pretty window like something Mr. Fetter had seen in 
an engraving, a room of suitable shape and size was 
constructed behind the window. Stairways were 
placed where they were needed, but they were not 
allowed to interfere with the shapes of rooms or hall- 
ways ; if there happened to be no other good place for 
them they were put on the outside of the house. 
Some of these stairways were wide, some narrow, and 
some winding 5 and as those on the outside were gen- 
erally covered, they increased the opportunities for 
queer windows and perplexing projections. The 
upper room of the tower was reached by a staircase 
from the outside, which opened into a little garden 
fenced off from the rest of the grounds, so that a 
person might occupy this room without having any 
communication with the other people in the house. 

34 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

In one of tlie back wings of the building there was 
a room which was more peculiar than any other, from 
the fact that there was no entrance to it whatever, 
unless one climbed into it by means of a ladder placed 
at one of its windows. This room, which was of fair 
size and well lighted, was in the second story, but it 
appeared to be of greater height on account of the 
descent of the ground at the back of the inn. It had 
been constructed because the shape of that part of 
the building called for a room, and a stairway to it 
had been omitted for the reason that if one had been 
built in the inside of the house it would have spoiled 
the shape of the room below, and there seemed no 
good way of putting one on the outside. So when the 
room was finished and floored the workmen came out 
of it through one of the windows, and Stephen Fetter 
reserved his decision in regard to a door and stairway 
until the apartment should be needed. 

The grounds about the Squirrel Inn were very at- 
tractive, and with them Stephen Fetter had interfered 
but little. The rich man had planned beautiful 
surroundings for his country home, and during many 
years nature had labored steadily to carry out his 
plans. There were grassy stretches and slopes, great 
trees, and terraces covered with tangled masses of vines 
and flowers. The house stood on a bluff, and on one 
side could be seen a wide view of a lovely valley, with the 
two steeples of Lethbury showing above the tree-tops. 

Back of the house, and sweeping around between it 
and the public road, was a far-reaching extent of 
woodland, and through this, for the distance of half a 
mile, wound the shaded lane which led from the high- 
way to the Squirrel Inn. 


35 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

At the point at which this lane was entered from 
the highroad was the sign of the inn. This was a tall 
post with a small square frame hanging from a trans- 
verse beam, and seated on the lower strip of the 
frame was a large stuffed gray squirrel. Every spring 
Stephen Fetter took down this squirrel and put up a 
new one. The old squirrels were fastened up side by 
side on a ledge in the tap -room, and by counting them 
one could find out how many years the inn had been 
kept. 

Directly below the bluff on which the house stood 
were Stephen Fetter’s grassy meadows and his fields 
of grain and corn, and in the rich pastures, or in the 
shade of the trees standing by the bank of the rapid 
little stream that ran down from the woodlands, might 
be seen his flocks and his herds. By nature he was a 
very good farmer, and his agricultural method he had 
not derived from his books. There were people who 
said— and among these Calthea Bose expressed herself 
rather better than the others — that Mr. Fetter’s farm 
kept him, while he kept the Squirrel Inn. 

When it had become known that the Squirrel Inn 
was ready to receive guests, peo])le came from here 
and there 5 not very many of them, but among them 
were the Eockmores of Germantown. This large 
family, so it appeared to Stephen Fetter, was com- 
posed of the kind of fellow-beings with whom he 
wished to associate. Their manners and ways seemed 
to him the manners and ways of the people he liked 
to read about, and he regarded them with admiration 
and respect. He soon discovered from their conver- 
sation that they were connected or acquainted with 
leading families in our princix)al Eastern cities, and it 

36 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

became his hope that he and his Squirrel Inn might 
become connected with these leading families by 
means of the Eockmores of Germantown. 

As this high-classed family liked variety in their 
summer outings, they did not come again to the 
Squirrel Inn, but the effect of their influence re- 
mained strong upon its landlord. He made up his 
mind that those persons who did not know the Eock- 
mores of Germantown did not move in those circles 
of society from which he wished to obtain his guests, 
and therefore he drew a line which excluded all 
persons who did not possess this acquaintanceship. 

This rule was very effectual in preventing the 
crowding of his house, and, indeed, there were sum- 
mers when he had no guests at all ; but this did not 
move Stephen Fetter. Better an empty house than 
people outside the pale of good society. 


37 


CHAPTER VI 

THE GREEK SCHOLAR 

Mrs. Cristie and her baby were warmly welcomed 
by Stephen Fetter and his wife. They had learned 
during her former visit to like this lady for herself, 
and now that she came to them a widow, their senti- 
ments toward her were warmer than ever. 

Mrs. Petter wondered very much why she had come 
without a maid, but fearing that perhaps the x)oor 
lady’s circumstances were not what they had been, she 
forbore to ask any immediate questions. But in her 
heart she resolved that, if she kept her health and 
strength, Mrs. Cristie should not be worn out by that 
child. 

The young widow was charmed to find herself once 
more at the Squirrel Inn, for it had been more like a 
home to her than any place in which she had lived 
since her marriage. But when she went to her room 
that night there was a certain depression on her spirits. 
This was caused by the expected advent on the next 
day of Mr. Lodloe and a wagon-load of candidates for 
the nurse-maidship. 

The whole affair annoyed her. In the first place, it 
was very awkward to have this young man engaged 

38 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

in this service for her ; and now that he was engaged 
in it, it would he, in a way, under her auspices that 
he would arrive at the Squirrel Inn. The more she 
thought of the matter the more it annoyed her. She 
now saw that she must announce the coming of this 
gentleman. It would not do for him to make a totally 
unexpected appearance as her agent in the nurse-maid 
business. 

But no worry of this sort could keep her awake 
very long, and after a night of sound and healthful 
sleep, she told her host and hostess, the next morning 
at breakfast, of the Mr. Lodloe who had kindly under- 
taken to bring her a nurse-maid. 

‘‘Lodloe,^’ repeated Mr. Better. “It strikes me 
that I have heard the Eockmores mention that name. 
Is it a Germantown family 1 

“ I really do not know,” answered Mrs. Cristie, “ he 
is from New York.” 

Here she stopped. She was of a frank and truthful 
nature, and very much wished to say that she knew 
nothing whatever of Mr. Lodloe ; but she was also of 
a kindly and grateful disposition, and she very well 
knew that such a remark would be an extremely det- 
rimental one to the young man ; so, being in doubt, 
she resolved to play trumps, and in cases like this 
silence is generally trumps. 

Mrs. Better had a mind which could project itself 
with the rapidity of light into the regions of possi- 
bilities, and if the possibilities appeared to her desir- 
able her mind moved at even greater velocity. It 
was plain to her that there must be something between 
this young widow and the young man who was going 
to bring her a nurse-maid ; and if this were the case, 

39 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

nothing must be allowed to interfere with the admis- 
sion of said young man as a guest at the Squirrel Inn. 

Mrs. Cristie did not want to talk any more on this 
subject. Nothing would have pleased her better at 
that moment than to hear that Mr. Lodloe had been 
unable to find her a suitable girl and that business 
had called him to New York. 

Mr. Fetter/’ she exclaimed, “ I was told yesterday 
that you kept a Greek in an outhouse ! What on 
earth does that mean ? ” 

Here Mrs. Fetter laughed abruptly, and Mr. Fetter 
slightly lifted his brow. 

Who could have told you such nonsense ? ” he said. 
“There is no Greek here. It is true that a Greek 
scholar lives in my summer-house, but that is very 
different from keeping a Greek in an outhouse.” 

“And he’s always late to breakfast,” said Mrs. 
Fetter ; “I believe if we sat down at the table at 
nine o’clock he would come in just as we were finish- 
ing.” 

“ How does it happen,” said Mrs. Cristie, “ that he 
lives in the summer-house ? ” 

“ He does not know the Kockmores of Germantown,” 
said Mrs. Fetter. 

“He is a man of learning,” remarked Stephen 
Fetter, “with a fine mind; and although I have 
made a rule which is intended to keep u]3 the reputa- 
tion of this house to a desirable level, I do not intend, 
if I can help it, that my rules shall press pinchingly, 
oppressively, or irritatively upon estimable persons. 
Such a person is Mr. Tippengray, our Greek scholar ; 
and although his social relations are not exactly up 
to the mark, he is not a man who should be denied 

40 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

tile privileges of this house^ so far as they can be con- 
scientiously given him. So yon see, Mrs. Cristie, that 
although I could not take him into the inn, there was 
no reason why I should not fit up the summer-house 
for him, which I did ; and I believe he likes it better 
than living in the house with us.” 

Like it ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Fetter. “ I should say 
he did like it ! I believe it would drive him crazy if 
he had to keep regular hours like other people. But 
here he is now. Hester, bring in some hot cakes. 
Mrs. Cristie, allow me to introduce Mr. Tippengray.” 

The appearance of the Greek scholar surprised Mrs. 
Cristie. She had expected to see a man in threadbare 
black, with a reserved and bowed demeanor. Instead 
of this, she saw a bright little gentleman in neat 
summer clothes, with a large blue cravat tied sailor 
fashion. He was not a young man, although his hair 
being light, the few portions of it which had turned 
gray were not conspicuous. He was a man who was 
inclined to listen and to observe rather than to talk, 
but when he had anything to say he popped it out 
very briskly. 

Mr. Fetter, having finished his breakfast, excused 
himself and retired, and Mrs. Fetter remarked to Mr. 
Tippengray that she was sorry he had not taken his 
evening meal with them the day before. 

“ I took such a long walk,” said the Greek scholar, 
that I concluded to sup in Lethbury.” 

Those Lethbury people usually take tea at five,” 
said his hostess. 

“ But I’m not a Lethbury person,” said he, and I 
took my tea at seven.” 

Mrs. Fetter looked at him with twinkles in her eyes. 

41 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

‘‘ Of course you went to the hotel/^ she said. 

Mr. Tippeugray looked at her with twinkles in his 
eyes. 

‘‘Madam/’ said he^ “have you noticed that those 
large blue-jays that were here in the spring have 
almost entirely disappeared? I remember you used 
to object to their shrill pipes.” 

“Which is as much as to say/’ said Mrs. Fetter, 
“ you don’t care to mention where you took tea yes- 
terday.” 

“Madam,” said Mr. Tippeugray, “the pleasure of 
taking breakfast here to-day effaces the memory of 
all former meals.” 

“The truth of it is,” said Mrs. Fetter to Mrs. 
Cristie, when they had left the table, “ Calthea Rose 
gave him his tea, and he don’t want to say so. She’s 
mightily taken with him, for he is a fine -minded man, 
and it isn’t often she gets the chance of keeping com- 
pany with that kind of a man. I don’t know whether 
he likes her liking or not, but he don’t care to talk 
about it.” 

Her first day at the Squirrel Inn was not altogether 
a pleasant one for Bertha Cristie. In spite of the 
much-proffered service of Mrs. Fetter, the care of her 
baby hampered her a good deal ; and notwithstanding 
the delights of her surroundings, her mind was entirely 
too much occupied with wondering when Mr. Lodloe 
would arrive with his wagon-load of girls, and what 
she would have to say to him and about him when he 
did arrive. 


42 


CHAPTER VII 


ROCKMORES AHEAD 

It was late in the afternoon of the day after Mrs. 
Cristie reached the Squirrel Inn that she slowly trun- 
dled the little carriage containing the baby toward 
the end of the bluff beneath which stretched the fair 
pastures where were feeding Mr. Fetter’s flocks and 
herds. All day she had been looking for the arrival 
of the young man who had promised to bring her 
some candidates for the position of child’s nurse, and 
now she was beginning to believe that she might as 
well cease to expect him. It was an odd sort of ser- 
vice for a comparative stranger voluntarily to under- 
take, and it would not be at all surprising if he had 
failed in his efforts or had given up his idea of coming 
to the Squirrel Inn. 

Having philosophized a little on the subject, and 
having succeeded in assuring herself that, after all, the 
matter was of no great importance, and that she should 
have attended to it herself, and must do it the next 
day, she was surprised to find how glad she was when, 
turning, she saw emerging from the woodland road 
a one-horse wagon with Mr. Lodloe sitting by the 
driver, and a female figure on the back seat. 

The latter proved to be a young person who at a 

43 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

considerable distance looked abont fourteen years old^ 
although on a nearer and more careful view she would 
pass for twenty or thereabouts. She wore a round 
straw hat with a white ribbon, and a light-colored 
summer suit with a broad belt, which held a large 
bunch of yellow flowers with brown centres. She had 
a cheerful, pleasant countenance, and large brown eyes 
which seemed to observe everything. 

As the wagon approached, Mrs. Cristie rapidly 
pushed her baby-carriage toward the house. Before 
she reached it the young girl had jumped to the 
ground and was advancing toward her. 

I suppose this is Mrs. Cristie,^^ said the new-comer. 

I am Ida Mayberry j and she held out her hand. 

Without a word Mrs. Cristie shook hands with the 
nurse -maid. 

“I think,’’ said the latter, “before we have any 
talk I would better go to my room and freshen myself 
up a little. I am covered with dust.” Then she 
turned to the driver of the wagon and gave him 
directions in regard to a medium-sized trunk, a large 
flat box, and several long packages tied up in brown 
muslin, which had been strapped to the back of the 
wagon. When these had been taken into the inn, 
she followed them. 

As Mr. Lodloe approached Mrs. Cristie, hat in hand, 
she exclaimed in a tone which she was not in the habit 
of using to comparative strangers, in which category 
sober reflection would certainly have placed the 
gentleman : 

“ Will you please to tell me what is the meaning of 
this? Who is that girl, and where did she come 
from ? ” 


44 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

“Madam/’ said Lodloe, in a deprecatory tone, “I 
can scarcely pick np the courage to say so, but that is 
the nurse-maid.” 

“And yon brought her to me?” exclaimed Mrs. 
Cristie. 

“ I did,” he answered. 

“ Did you get her in Komney ? ” 

“ No,” said Lodloe, “ there wasn’t a girl of any sort 
or kind to be had there. I was obliged to go to New 
York for one.” 

“ To New York ! ” cried the astonished Mrs. Cristie. 

“Madam,” said Lodloe, “let me propose that we 
retire a little from the house. Perhaps her room may 
be somewhere above us.” 

And the two having walked a short distance over 
the lawn, he continued : 

“I really believe that I have done a very foolish 
thing j but having promised to do you a service, I 
greatly disliked not to keep my word. I could find 
no one in Romney, and of course the only way to get 
you a girl was to go to New York; and so I went 
there. My idea was to apply to one of those estab- 
lishments where there are always lots of maids of all 
grades, and bring one to you. That was the way the 
matter appeared to me, and it seemed simple enough. 
On the ferry-boat I met Mrs. Waltham, a lady I know 
very well, who is a member of the Monday Morning 
Club, and a great i)romoter of college annexes for 
girls, and all that sort of thing ; and when I asked 
her advice about the best intelligence office, she told 
me to keep away from all of them, and to go instead 
to a teachers’ agency, of which she gave me the ad- 
dress, where she said I would be almost sure to find 

45 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

some teacher who wanted occupation during the 
holidays.’’ 

“ A teacher ! ” cried Mrs. Cristie. 

^^Yes,” said Lodloe, “and you may be sure that I 
was as much surprised as you are. But Mrs. Waltham 
assured me that a great many women teachers found 
it necessary to make money during the summer^ and 
were glad to do any things just as college students wait 
at hotels. The more she talked about it the more she 
got interested in it, and the matter resulted in her 
going to the agency with me. Mrs. Waltham is a 
heavy swell in educational circles, and as she selected 
this young person herself I said not a word about it, 
except to hurry up matters so that the girl and I could 
start on an early afternoon train.” 

“Never in my life !” ejaculated Mrs. Cristie. 

“Madam,” interrupted Lodloe, “I beg you not to 
say what you intended. It is impossible for you to 
feel as bad about it as I do. Just to think of it 
stuns me. Did you see her baggage? She has come 
to stay all summer. There is no earthly reason to 
think she will suit you. I don’t suppose she ever saw 
a baby.” 

Mrs. Cristie’s mind was still filled with surprise and 
vexation, but she could not help laughing at Mr. 
Lodloe’s comical contrition. 

“I will see her presently,” she said, “but, in the 
meantime, what are you going to do? There is Mr. 
Better standing in the doorway waiting for your ap- 
proach, and he will ask you a lot of questions.” 

“About the Germantown family, I suppose,” said 
Lodloe. 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Cristie, “ that will be one of them.” 

46 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

“Well, I don’t know them,” said Lodloe, “and 
that’s the end of it.” 

“ By no means,” said the lady, quickly. “ Mr. Better 
has on his most im]3ressiYe air. Y on must go and talk 
to him, and it will not do to sneer at the Eockmores.” 

“If it is absolutely necessary to have credentials in 
order to secure quarters here,” said Lodloe, “I don’t 
see what is to be done about it.” 

“Come with me,” said Mrs. Cristie, quickly, “you 
have put yourself to a great deal of trouble for me, 
and I will see what I can do for you.” 

When Walter Lodloe and Mr. Better had been 
formally introduced to each other, the brow of the 
latter bore marks of increased trouble and uncertainty. 
From the confidential aspect of the interview between 
Mrs. Cristie and the young man, the landlord of the 
inn had begun to suspect what his wife had suspected, 
and it galled his spirit to think of putting his usual 
test question to this friend of Mrs. Cristie. But he 
was a man of principle, and he did not fiinch. 

“ Are you from Bhiladelphia, sir,” he asked, “ or its 
vicinity ? ” 

“ 1^0,” said Lodloe ,• “ I am from New York.” 

“A great many Bhiladelphia people,” continued 
the landlord, “or those from its vicinity, are well 
known in New York, and, in fact, move in leading 
circles there. Are you acquainted, sir, with the Eock- 
mores of Germantown?” 

Mrs. Better now appeared in the doorway, her face 
clouded. If Mrs. Cristie had known the Eockmores 
she would have hastened to give Mr. Lodloe such ad- 
vantages as an acquaintance in the second degree 
might aiford. But she had never met any member of 

47 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

that family, the valuable connection being entirely on 
the side of her late husband. 

I did not know/’ said Lodloe, that you required 
credentials of respectability, or I might have brought 
a lot of letters.” 

^‘One from Matthew Yassar?” said Mrs. Cristie, 
unable to resist her opportunity. 

‘^Were you acquainted with Matthew Yassar?” 
interpolated Mrs. Fetter, with energetic interest. 
“ He was a great and good man, and his friends ought 
to be good enough for anybody. Now, put it to your- 
self, Stephen. Don’t you think that the friends of 
Matthew Yassar, the founder of that celebrated col- 
lege, known all over the world, a man who even after 
his day and generation is doing so much good, are 
worthy to be accommodated in this house ? ” 

Mr. Fetter contracted his brows, looked upon the 
ground, and interlaced his fingers in front of him. 

The late Mr. Matthew Yassar,” said he, “ was truly 
a benefactor to his kind, and a man worthy of all re- 
spect j but when we come to consider the way in which 
the leading circles of society are made up—” 

‘‘Don’t consider it at all,” cried Mrs. Fetter. “If 
this gentleman is a friend of Mrs. Cristie, and is 
backed up by Matthew Yassar, you cannot turn him 
away. If you want to get round the Eockmores you 
can treat him just as you treat Mr. Tippeugray. Let 
him have the top room of the tower, which, I am sure, 
is as pleasant as can be, especially in warm weather ; 
and then he will have his own stairs to himself, and 
can come in and go out just as Mr. Tippengray does, 
without ever considering whether the Squirrel Inn is 
open or shut. As for eating, that’s a different matter. 

48 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

People can eat in a place without living there. That 
was all settled when we took Mr. Tippengray.” 

An expression of decided relief passed over the face 
of Mr. Petter. 

“ It is true/^ he said, that in the case of Mr. Tip- 
pengray we made an exception to our rule—’’ 

“That’s so,” interrupted Mrs. Petter, “and as I 
have heard that exceptions prove a rule, the more of 
them we have the better. And if the top room suits 
Mr. Lodloe, I’ll have it made ready for him without 
waiting another minute.” 

Mr. Lodloe declared that any room into which the 
good lady might choose to put him would suit him 
perfectly ; and that matter was settled. 


49 


CHAPTER VIII 


MISS MAYBERRY 

About five minutes after Walter Lodloe had departed 
for his loft-chamber, Miss Ida Mayberry made her ap- 
pearance in the front doorway. She had changed her 
dress, and looked very bright and fresh. 

“Isn’t this a pretty place?” she said, approaching 
Mrs. Cristie. “I think I shall like it ever so much. 
And that is your baby ? Is it a boy or a girl ? ” 

“ A boy,” was the answer. 

“ And his name ? ” 

“ Douglas.” 

“ I like that sort of name,” remarked Miss Mayberry, 
“ it is sensible and distinctive. And now, I wish you 
would tell me exactly what you want me to do.” 

Mrs. Cristie spoke nervously. 

“ Really,” said she, “ I am afraid that there has been 
a mistake. I want an ordinary nurse-maid, and Mr. 
Lodloe could not have understood—” 

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself about that,” said the 
other. “I understand perfectly. You will find me 
quite practical. What I don’t know I can learn. My 
mental powers need a change of channel, and if I can 
give them this change, and at the same time make 
some money, I am sure I ought to be satisfied.” 

50 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

“But it seems to me,” said Mrs. Cristie, “that one 
who is by profession a teacher would scarcely—” 
“Perhaps not, years ago,” interrupted the other, 
“but things are different now. Look at all the 
young college fellows who work during vacation ! And 
we are beginning to do it, too. IN’ow, you will find me 
just as practical as anybody. Nine months in the 
year I teach,— moral and mental philosophy are my 
special branches,— and during vacation I am not going 
to wear out my brain in a summer school, nor emj)ty 
my purse by lounging about in idleness. Now, what 
could be better than for me to come to a perfectly 
lovely place like this, which I fancy more and more 
every minute, and take care of a nice little child, 
which, I am sure, will be a pleasure in itself, and give 
me a lot of time to read, besides? However, I wish 
you to understand, Mrs. Cristie, that I am never going 
to neglect the baby for the sake of study or reading.” 

“ But have you thought seriously of the position in 
which this would place you ? ” 

“Oh, yes,” was the answer, “but that is a disad- 
vantage that has to be accepted, and I don’t mind it. 
Of course I wouldn’t go to anybody and everybody j 
but when a lady is recommended by a friend of Mrs. 
Waltham’s, I wouldn’t hesitate to make an engage- 
ment with her. As to salary, I will take whatever 
you would pay to another nurse-maid, and I beg you 
will not make the slightest difference because I am 
a teacher. Is that bell for supper ? ” 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Cristie, “and perhaps you have 
not yet refiected that my nurse-maid must take care 
of my baby while I am at my meals.” 

“ That is precisely and exactly what she is ^oing to 

51 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

do. Go in to your supper, and I will push him about 
until you come out again. Then you can show me 
how to put him to bed.” 

Isn’t she coming in?” asked Mrs. Fetter, looking 
out of the window, as she took her seat at the table. 

course not,” said Mrs. Cristie, in a tone which 
was intended to make an impression on Mr. Lodloe, 
my maids do not eat with me.” 

But goodnessful me ! ” said Mrs. Fetter, “ you can’t 
look upon that sort of a young woman as a servant. 
Why, I put her in one of the best rooms ; though of 
course that doesn’t make any difference, so long as 
there is nobody else to take it. I wonder if we 
couldn’t find some sort of a girl to take care of the 
baby while she comes to her meals ? ” 

At this even Stephen Fetter smiled. He was 
pleased that one of his guests should have a servant 
of such high degree. It was like a noble lady in 
waiting upon a queen. 

“She shall be entertained,” he said, “according to 
her station. There need be no fear about that.” 

“Upon my word,” exclaimed Mrs. Fetter, “if here 
isn’t Mr. Tippengray ! Well, sir, I don’t know when 
I’ve seen you on hand at regular meal-time ! ” 

“ Ferhaps it is a little out of the common,” said the 
Greek scholar, “ but, after all,” he continued, looking 
out of the window, “ it appears I am not the last one 
to come in.” And then, glancing around the table, he 
asked, “ Am I taking her place ? ” 

“ Oh, no, sir,” said Mrs. Cristie, “ that is my maid.” 
Mr. Tijipengray again looked out of the window ; 
then he heli)ed himself to butter, and said : 

“ Have you ever noticed, Mrs. Fetter, that the pre- 

52 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

vailing style in wild flowers seems to vary every year ? 
It changes just like our fashions, though of course 
there are always a few old fogies among blossoming 
weeds as well as among clothes-wearers.’^ 

The next morning Walter Lodloe came to Mrs. 
Cristie on the lawn. 

“I have been waiting for some time/^ he said, “in 
order to tell you that I am ready at any moment to 
repair the unpardonable blunder that I made yes- 
terday, and to escort back to New York the very un- 
suitable young woman whom I forced upon you.’’ 

“ Oh, you need not think of doing anything of that 
kind,” said Mrs. Cristie. “ The young person is per- 
fectly satisfied with the situation, and intends to stay. 
She gives me no possible excuse to tell her that she 
will not suit me, for she takes hold of things exactly 
as if she remembered what people did for her when 
she was a baby. She doesn’t know everything, but 
she intends to ; that is plain enough. At present she 
is washing one of baby’s frocks with my savon de rosej 
because she declares that the soap they gave her in 
the kitchen contains enough lye to corrode the fibers 
of the fabric.” 

“Then you think she may suit you?” said Lodloe. 

“ Oh, she wall suit ; she intends to suit ; and I have 
nothing to say except that I feel very much as I sup- 
pose you would feel if you had a college president to 
brush your coat.” 

“ My spirits rise,” said Lodloe, “ I begin to believe 
that I have not made so much of a blunder, after all. 
When you can get it, there is nothing like blooded 
service.” 

“ But you do not want too much blood,” said Mrs. 

53 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

Cristie. “ I wish she had not studied at Bryn Mawr, 
for I think she pities me for having graduated at 
Vassar. But still, she says I must call her Ida, and 
that gives me courage.’^ 

There then followed a contention, in which Lodloe 
was worsted, about his expenses in the nurse-maid 
affair, and, this matter being settled, the young man 
declared that, having shown what an extremely unde- 
sirable person he was to work for others, he must go 
and attend to his own work. 

“ What sort of work do you do ? asked Mrs. Cristie. 
write,’’ he answered— ‘‘novels, stories, fiction in 
general.” 

“I know that,” said she, “having read your Vassar 
article ; but I do not think I have met with any of 
your avowed stories.” 

“Madam,” said Walter Lodloe, “there are so many 
people in this world, and so few of them have read 
my stories, it is no wonder that you belong to the 
larger class. But, satirize my Vassar article as you 
please, I shall never cease to be grateful to it for my 
tower room in the Squirrel Inn.” 


54 


CHAPTER IX 

THE PRESERVATION OF LITERATURE 

Walter Lodloe set out to go to his work, and on 
his way to the little garden at the foot of the staircase 
which led to his room in the tower he saw the Greek 
scholar sitting on a bench outside his summer-house 
smoking a large cigar. 

Good morning, sir,’^ said Mr. Tippengray, do you 
smoke I ” 

The tone of these words implied not only a question, 
but an invitation, in case the young man did smoke, 
to sit down on that bench and do it. Lodloe under- 
stood the force of the remark, and, drawing out a 
cigar, took a seat by Mr. Tippengray. 

‘‘Before I go to my work,” said the latter, “it is 
my habit to sit here and enjoy the scenery and a few 
puffs. I suppose when you come to a place like this 
you throw work to the winds.” 

“ Oh, no ! ” said Lodloe, “ I am a literary man, and 
I came here to write.” 

“ Very glad to hear it,” said the other, “ very glad 
that that tower room is to have the right sort of occu- 
pant. If I had not this summer-house, I should want 
that room j but I am afraid, however, if I had it, I 

55 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

should look out of the window a great deal and 
translate a very little.^’ 

“What do you translate?’^ asked Lodloe, with 
interest. 

“ At present/^ said Mr. Tippengray, “ I am engaged 
in translating into Greek some of the standard works 
of our modern literature. There is no knowing what 
may happen to our modern languages. In the course 
of a few centuries they may become as useless to the 
readers of that day as the English of Chaucer is to the 
ordinary reader of our time ; but Greek will stand, sir, 
and the sooner we get the good things of the present 
day into solid Greek the better it will be for them 
and the literature of the future.’^ 

“What work are you translating?’^ asked Lodloe. 

“I am now at work on the ‘Pickwick Papers,’” 
said the scholar, “ and I assure you that it is not an 
easy job. When I get through with it I shall trans- 
late it back into English, after the fashion of Sir Wil- 
liam Jones— the only way to do that sort of thing. 
Same as a telegraphic message— if it isn’t repeated 
you can’t depend on it. If I then find that my Eng- 
lish is like that of Dickens, I shall feel greatly en- 
couraged, and probably shall take up the works of 
Thackeray.” 

Walter Lodloe was somewhat stunned at this an- 
nouncement, and he involuntarily glanced at the gray 
streaks in the locks of the Greek scholar. The latter 
perceived the glance, and, knocking the ashes from 
his cigar, remarked : 

“ Did you ever notice, sir, that an ordinary robin is 
perfectly aware that while squirrels and cats are 
able to ascend the perpendicular trunk of a tree. 

56 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

they cannot climb the painted pillar of a piazza, and 
consequently it is perfectly safe to build a nest at the 
top of such a pillar? ” 

Lodloe had noticed this and a good many other 
intelligent traits of animals, and the two conversed 
on this interesting subject until the sun came round 
to the bench on which they were sitting, when they 
moved to a shady spot and continued the conversa- 
tion. 

At last Lodloe arose. “It must be nearly dinner- 
time,’’ said he. “ I think I shall take a walk, this 
afternoon, and see some of the country.” 

“Yon ought to do it,” said Mr. Tippengray. “It 
is a beautiful country. If you like, I will go with 
you. I’m not a bad guide ; I know every road, path, 
and short cut.” 

Walter Lodloe expressed his satisfaction at the 
proposed companionship, and suggested that the first 
walk be to the village of Lethbury, peeping up 
among the trees in the distance. 

“ Lethbury ! ” exclaimed the Greek scholar. “ Well, 
sir, if it’s all the same to you, I prefer walking in any 
direction to that of Lethbury. It’s a good enough 
place, but to-day I don’t feel drawn to it.” 

“Very good,” said Lodloe, “we will walk any- 
where but in the direction of Lethbury.” 

About half an houi* afterward, Mrs. Fetter, having 
finished carving a pair of fowls, paused for a moment’s 
rest in serving the little company, and looked out of 
the dining-room window. 

“ Upon my word ! ” she exclaimed, “ this is too bad. 
When other boarders came, I thought Mr. Tippengray 
would begin to behave like other Christians, and come 

57 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

to his meals at the proper time. At supper last night 
and breakfast this morning he was at the table as soon 
as anybody, and I was beginning to feel real heartened 
up, as if things were going to run on regular and 
proper. But now look at that ! Isn’t that enough to 
make a housekeeper give up in despair?” 

Mrs. Cristie, Lodloe, and Mr. Better all looked out 
of the window, and beheld the Greek scholar engaged 
in pushing the baby- carriage backward and forward 
under the shade of a large tree, while, on a seat near 
by, the maid Ida sat reading a book. How, passing 
nearer, Mr. Tix)pengray stopped, and with sparkling 
eyes spoke to her. Then she looked up, and with 
sparkling eyes answered him. Then together, with 
sparkling eyes, they conversed for a few minutes, evi- 
dently about the book. After a few more turns of 
the carriage, Mr. Tippengray returned to the maid ; 
the sparkling eyes were raised again from the book, 
and the scene was repeated. 

^^He has lent her a book,” said Mrs. Cristie. ‘‘She 
did not take that one out with her.” 

“ There’s a time for books, and there’s a time for 
meals,” said Mrs. Better. “Why didn’t he keep his 
book until he had eaten his dinner?” 

“I think Mr. Tippengray must be something of a 
philosopher,” said Lodloe, “and that he prefers to 
take his books to a pretty maid when other people 
are at dinner.” 

“ My wife does not altogether understand the ways 
of scholars,” said Mr. Better. “A gentleman giving 
most of his time to Greek cannot be expected to give 
much of his mind to the passage of modern time.” 

“If he gave some of his time to the passage of a 

58 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

good dinner into cold victuals it would help his dys- 
pepsia. But I suppose he will come when he is ready ; 
and all I have to say is that I would like to see 
Calthea Rose if she coidd catch sight of them this 
minute.” 

Mr. Fetter sat at the end of the table where he had 
a view of his flocks and his herds in the pasture 
below. 

‘‘Well/^ said he, ‘Tf that estimable young woman 
wants to catch a sight of them, all she has to do is to 
step along lively, for at this present moment she is 
walking over the fleld path, straight to this house, and, 
what is more, she is wearing her bonnet and carrying 
a parasol.” 

Bonnet and parasol ! ” ejaculated Mrs. Fetter. 

Fire in the mountains, run, boys, run ! Debby, 
step out as quick as you can to Mr. Tippengray, and 
you needn’t say anything but just ask if Miss Calthea 
Rose told him she was coming to dinner to-day, and 
tell him she’s coming over the fleld.” 

In about one minute the Greek scholar was in his 
place at the table and beginning his meal. 

^^Now, Mr. Tippengray,” said Mrs. Fetter, ^‘1 don’t 
suppose you feel any coals of fire on your head at this 
present moment.” 

Madam,” said the scholar, ‘‘did you ever notice 
that when squirrels strip the bark from the limbs of 
trees they are very apt to despoil those branches 
which project in such a manner as to interfere with 
a view? ” 

“iSTo, I didn’t,” said Mrs. Fetter, “and I don’t be- 
lieve they do it, either. Debby, put a knife, fork, and 
napkin for Calthea Rose. If she is coming to dinner, 

50 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

it is just as well to let tier think that nobody forgot 
to bring the message she sent. She never comes to 
meals without sending word beforehand.’^ 

But Miss Calthea had not come to dinner. She 
sent word by Debby, who met her at the front door, 
that she had had her dinner, and that she would wait 
for the family on the piazza. 

“ Bonnet and parasol ! ” said Mrs. Better. She has 
come to make a call, and it’s on you, Mrs. Cristie. 
Don’t eat too fast, Mr. Tippengray ; she’s good for the 
rest of the afternoon.” 


60 


CHAPTER X 

EOSE VERSUS MAYBERRY 

Miss Calthea Rose was a person of good height, 
originally slender, but gathering an appreciable 
plumpness as the years went on, and with good taste 
in dress when she chose to exert it, which on the 
present occasion she did. She possessed acute per- 
ceptions and a decided method of action : but whether 
or not the relation of her perceptions to her actions 
was always influenced by good judgment was a ques- 
tion with her neighbors ; it never was, however, a 
question with herself. 

When everybody but Mr. Tippengray had finished 
dinner, and he had desired the others not to wait for 
him, as he would probably be occupied some time 
longer, the host and hostess went out to greet the 
visitor, followed by Mrs. Cristie and Lodloe. When 
Miss Calthea Rose turned to greet the latter lady her 
expression was cold, not to say hard ; but when her 
eyes fell upon the gentleman by the side of the young 
widow, a softening warmth spread over her face, and 
she came forward with outstretched hands. 

^^Did you see that?’’ said Mrs. Fetter, aside to her 
husband. Jealous as she can be of Mrs. Cristie till 


61 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

she sees that she’s got a young man of her own ; then 
as sweet as sugar.” 

When Miss Calthea Eose set about to be as sweet as 
sugar^ it was very good sugar that she took for her 
model. She liked to talk, but was not a mistress of 
words j and although her remarks were not always to 
the point, they were generally pointed. At last Mr. 
Tippengray came out on the piazza. He walked 
slowly, and he did not wear his usual ease of de- 
meanor 5 but nothing could have been more cordial 
and reassuring than the greeting given him by Miss 
Calthea. If this were intended in any way to inspirit 
him, it failed of its effect. The Greek scholar stood 
apart, and did not look like a man who had made up 
his mind as to what he was going to do next ; but 
Miss Calthea took no notice of his unusual demeanor. 
She talked with great graciousness to the company in 
general, and frequently directed remarks to Mr. Tip- 
pengray which indicated a high degree of good com- 
radeship. 

Under this general warmth Mr. Tippengray was 
forced to melt a little, and in a manner to accept the 
position thus publicly tendered him. But suddenly 
the maid Ida popped up the steps of the piazza. She 
had an open book in her hand, and she went directly 
and quickly to Mr. Tippengray. She held the book 
up toward him, and put her finger on a page. 

You were just here,” she said, ^^when you had to 
go to your dinner. Now, if you will finish the ex- 
planation I can go on nicely. You don’t know how 
you help me. Every word you say seems to take 
root.” And she looked up into his face with snarkling 
eyes. 


62 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

Blit not a sparkle sparkled from the eyes of the 
Greek scholar. He stood silently looking at the book, 
his face a little flushed, his eyes blinking as if the 
sunlight were too strong for him. 

Suppose you walk out on the lawn with me,^^ said 
the nurse-maid, “and then we shall not disturb the 
others. I will not keep you more than five minutes.” 

She went down the steps of the piazza, and Mr. 
Tippengray, having apparently lost the power of 
making up his mind what he should do, did what she 
wanted him to do, and followed her. They did not 
walk very far, but stood barely out of hearing of the 
persons on the piazza, her eyes sparkling up into his 
face as his helpful words took root in her under- 
standing. 

At the instant of the appearance of the maid Ida 
Miss Calthea Rose stopped talking. Her subsequent 
glances toward this young woman and Mr. Tippen- 
gray might have made one think of steel chilled to 
zero. Mrs. Cristie looked at Lodloe, and he at her, 
and both slightly smiled. “ She understands that sort 
of thing,” he thought, and “ He understands that sort 
of thing,” she thought. 

At this moment Mrs. Better glanced at her two 
guests and saw the smile which passed between them. 
She understood that sort of thing. 

“Who is that?” said Miss Calthea Rose, presently. 

Mrs. Cristie, full of the humor of the situation, 
hastened to answer. 

“ It is my nurse-maid,” she said, “ Ida Mayberry.” 

“ A child’s nurse ! ” ejaculated Miss Calthea Rose. 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Cristie ; “ that is what she is.” 

“I expect,” said Mrs. Better, “that he is teaching 

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THE SQUIRREL INN 

her Greek, and of coui'se it’s hard for her at the begin- 
ning. Mr. Tippengray’s such a kind man that he 
would do anything for anybody, so far as he could ; 
but I must admit that I can’t see how Greek can help 
anybody to nurse children, unless there is some book 
on the subject in that language.” 

Greek ! ” scornfully ejaculated Miss Calthea ; and 
turning her steely glance from the couple on the 
lawn, she began to talk to Mr. Fetter about one of 
his cows which had broken its leg. 

Ida Mayberry was a young woman who meant what 
she said, and in less than five minutes, with a spar- 
kling glance of thanks, she released Mr. Tippengray. 
That gentleman returned to the piazza ; but his ap- 
pearance elicited no more attention from the lady 
who had so recently brought into view their friendly 
relationship than if he had been the head of a nail in 
the floor beneath her. From Mr. Fetter she turned 
to speak to some of the others ; and if her words and 
manner did not make Mr. Tippengray understand, 
that, so far as she was concerned, he had ceased to 
exist, her success was not what she expected it to be. 

Although he had been amused and interested, 
Walter Lodloe now thought that he had had enough 
of Miss Calthea Fose, and wandered away to the little 
garden at the foot of his staircase. He had not reached 
it before he was joined by Mr. Tippengray. 

“ Look here,” said the latter, with something of his 
usual briskness, “if you are still in the humor, sup- 
pose we walk over to Lethbury.” 

Lodloe looked at him in surprise. “ I thought you 
didn’t want to go there,” he said. 

“ I’ve changed my mind,” replied the other. “ I 

r>4 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

think this is a very good day to go to Lethbury. It 
is a pretty village^ and you ought to have some one 
with you to show you its best points.’’ 

As soon as she thought etiquette would permit, Mrs. 
Cristie withdrew, pleading the interests of her baby 
as an excuse. 

‘‘Do you mean to tell me,” said Miss Calthea Kose, 
the moment the young mother was out of hearing, 
“that she leaves her baby in the care of that thing 
with a book % ” 

“Oh, yes,” was the answer, “Mrs. Cristie tells me 
she is a very good nurse-maid.” 

“ Well,” said Miss Calthea, “ babies are troublesome, 
and it’s often convenient to get rid of them ) but I 
must say that I never heard of this new style of in- 
fanticide. I suppose there isn’t any law against it 
yet.” 

Mr. Fetter looked uneasy. He did not like fault 
found with Mrs. Cristie, who was a great favorite with 
him. 

“I am inclined to think. Miss Calthea,” he said, 
“ that you judge that young person too harshly. I 
have formed a very good opinion of her. I^ot only 
does she attend to her duties, but she has a good mind. 
It may not be a fine mind, but it is a good mind. Her 
desire to learn from Mr. Tippengray is a great point 
in her favor.” 

Here Mrs. Fetter, who sat near her husband, 
pressed violently upon his foot 5 but she was too late : 
the words had been said. Mrs. Fetter prepared her- 
self for a blaze, but none came. There was a momen- 
tary fiash in the Calthean eyes, and then the lids 
came down and shut out everything but a line of 

65 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

steely light. Then she gazed out over the landscape, 
and presently again turned her face toward her com- 
panions, with nothing more upon it than her usual 
expression when in a bad humor. 

‘^Do yon know,” she said abruptly, ^^that Lanigan 
Beam is coming back ? ” 

Goodness gracious ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Better. “ I 
thought he was settled in Patagonia.” 

‘‘It was not Patagonia,” said Mr. Better, “it was 
Nicaragua.” 

“Well, I knew it was the little end of some place,” 
said she. “ And now he’s coming back ! Well, that is 
unfortunate.” 

“ Unfortunate ! ” said Miss Calthea. “ It’s criminal. 
There ought to be a law against such things.” 

Again the host of the Squirrel Inn moved uneasily 
on his chair and crossed and recrossed his legs. He 
liked Lanigan Beam. 

“ I cannot see,” he said, “ why it is wrong for a man 
to return to the place where he was born.” 

“ Born ! ” scornfully exclaimed Miss Calthea. “ It’s 
the greatest pity that there is any place where he 
was born ! But i here’s no use talking about him. He 
has written to them at the hotel at Lethbury that he 
will be there the day after to-morrow, and he wants 
them to have a room ready for him. If he’d asked 
them to have a. grave ready for him it w ould have 
been much more considerate.” 

Mr. Better now rose to his feet ; his manner was 
very dignified. 

“Excuse me. Miss Calthea,” he said, “but I must 
go and look after my men in the corn-field.” 

Miss Calthea Bose sat up very straight in her chair. 

66 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

If there’s anything yon want to do, Mrs. Fetter, I 
beg yon won’t let me keep you.” 

“Now, Calthea,” said Mrs. Fetter, “don’t work 
yourself into such a terrible stew. You know 
Stephen doesn’t like to have Lanigan pitched into. 
I’m sorry for even what I said. But that about his 
grave was enough to rouse a saint.” 

Miss Calthea was on the point of retorting that that 
was something which Stephen Fetter was not, by any 
means ; but she restrained herself. If she quarrelled 
with the Fetters, and cut herself off from visiting the 
Squirrel Inn, a great part of the pleasure of her life 
would be gone. 

“Well,” she said, “we all know Lanigan Beam, and 
if there’s anybody who wants the peace of the com- 
munity to vanish entirely out of sight, the responsi- 
bility’s on him, and not on me.” 

“ Mrs. Fetter,” said Ida Mayberry, appearing so 
suddenly before that good woman that she seemed to 
have dropped through the roof of the piazza, “ do you 
know where Mr. Tippengray is”? I’ve been looking 
all over for him, and can’t find him. He isn’t in his 
little house, for I knocked at the door.” 

“Does Mrs. Cristie want him?” asked Mrs. Fetter, 
making this wild grasp at a straw. 

“Oh, no,” said Ida. “It is I who want him. 
There’s [a Greek sentence in this book he lent me 
which I am sure I have not translated properly ; and 
as the baby is asleep now, there couldn’t be a better 
time for him to help me, if only I could find him.” 

Self-restraint was no longer possible with Miss 
Calthea Bose. A red blaze shot into her face, and 
without deigning to look in the direction of the 

67 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

creature who had just spoken, she said in the sharp- 
est tones of contemptuous anger : 

Greek to a child’s nurse ! I expect next he’ll 
teach French to the pigs ! ” 

The maid Ida lifted up her eyes from the book and 
fixed them on Miss Calthea. 

The best thing he could do,” she quietly remarked, 
would be to teach the old hens good manners ; ” and 
then she walked away with her book. 

Miss Calthea sprang to her feet, and looked as if she 
was going to do something ; but there was nothing to 
do, and she sat down again. Her brow was dark, her 
eyes hashed, and her lips were parted as if she was 
about to say something ; but there was nothing to say, 
and she sat silent, breathing hard. It was bad enough 
to be as jealous as Miss Calthea was at that moment, 
but to be so flagrantly insulted by the object of her 
jealousy created in her a rage that could not be ex- 
pressed in words. It was fortunate that she did not 
look at Mrs. Fetter, for that good lady was doing her 
best to keep from laughing. 

Well ! ” she exclaimed, as soon as she could speak 
composedly, this is too much. I think I must speak 
to Mrs. Cristie about this. Of course she can’t pre- 
vent the young woman from answering back, but I 
think I can make her see that it isn’t seemly and 
becoming for nurse-maids to be associating with 
boarders in this way.” 

“ If you take my advice, Susan Fetter,” said Miss 
Calthea, in a voice thickened by her emotions, ‘^you 
will keep your mouth shut on that subject. If your 
boarders choose to associate with servants, let them 
alone. It simply shows what sort of people they are.” 

68 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

Calthea Eose did not like to hear herself speak in a 
voice which might show how she was feeling, and as 
there was no use of staying there if she could not 
talk, she rose to leave, and, in spite of Mrs. Fetter’s 
hospitable entreaty to make a longer stay, she de- 
parted. 

When her visitor was well out of sight, Mrs. Fetter 
allowed herself to lean back in her chair and laugh 
quietly. 

Leave them alone, indeed ! ” she said to herself. 

You may want me to do it, but I know well enough 
that you are not going to leave them alone. Miss 
Calthea Eose, and I can’t say that I wonder at your 
state of mind, for it seems to me that this is your last 
chance. If you don’t get Mr. Tippengray, I can’t see 
where you are going to find another jnan who is 
properly older than you are.” 


69 


CHAPTEK XI 


LANIGAN BEAJVI 

That evening about eleven o’clock Walter Lodloe 
was sitting in bis room in the tower, his feet upon 
the sill of the large window which looked out over 
the valley. He had come up to his room an hour or 
two before, determined not to allow the whole day to 
pass without his having done any work j and now, 
having written several pages of the story on which he 
was engaged, he was enjoying the approbation of his 
conscience, the flavor of a good cigar, and the beau- 
tiful moon-lighted scene which he beheld from his 
window. 

More than this, he was thinking over the events of 
the day with a good deal of interest and amusement, 
particularly of his afternoon walk with Mr. Tippen- 
gray. He had taken a great fancy to that gentleman, 
who, without making any direct confidences, had 
given him a very fair idea of his relations with Cal- 
thea Rose. It was plain enough that he liked that 
very estimable person, and that he had passed many 
pleasant hours in her society, but that he did not at 
all agree with what he called her bigoted notions in 
regard to proprietorship in fellow-beings. 

On the other hand, Lodloe was greatly delighted 

70 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

with Miss Calthea’s manner of showing her state of 
mind. Quite unexpectedly they had met her in Leth- 
hury, — to which village Mr. Tij^pengray had not 
thought she would return so soon,— and Lodloe al- 
most laughed as he called to mind the beaming and 
even genial recognition that she gave to him, and 
which, at the same time, included effacement and ex- 
tinction of his companion to the extent of being an 
admirable piece of dramatic art. The effect upon 
Lodloe had been such that when the lady had passed 
he involuntarily turned to see if the Greek scholar 
had not slipped away just before the moment of 
meeting. 

‘^When a woman tries so hard to show how little 
she thinks of a man,’^ thought Lodloe, ‘Gt is a proof 
that she thinks a great deal of him, and I shall not be 
surprised — Just then there came a tap at the win- 
dow opposite the one at which he was sitting. 

Now, when a man in the upper room of a fairly tall 
tower, access to which is gained by a covered staircase 
the door at the bottom of which he knows he has 
locked, hears a tap at the window, he is likely to be 
startled. Lodloe was so startled that his chair nearly 
tipped over backward. Turning quickly, he saw a 
man’s head and shoulders at the opposite window, the 
sash of which was raised. With an exclamation, 
Lodloe sprang to his feet. His lamp had been turned 
down in order that he might better enjoy the moon- 
light, but he could plainly see the man at the window, 
who now spoke. 

Hold hard,” said he, “ don’t get excited. There’s 
nothing out of the way. My name is Beam— Lanigan 
Beam. I tapped because I thought if I spoke first 

71 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

you might jump out of the window, being turned in 
that direction. May I come in ? 

Lodloe made no answer ; his mind did not compre- 
hend the situation ; he went to the window and looked 
out. The man was standing on the sharp ridge of a 
roof which stretched from the tower to the rear por- 
tion of the building. By reaching upward he was 
able to look into the window. 

“Give me a hand/^ said the man, “and wedl con- 
sider matters inside. This is a mighty ticklish place 
to stand on.’’ 

Lodloe had heard a good deal that evening about 
Lanigan Beam, and although he was amazed at the 
appearance of that individual at this time and place, 
he was ready and willing to make his acquaintance. 
Bracing himself against the window-frame, he reached 
out his hand, and in a few moments Mr. Beam had 
scrambled into the room. Lodloe turned up the wick 
of his lamp, and by the bright light he looked at his 
visitor. 

He saw a man rather long as to legs and thin as to 
face, and dressed in an easy-fitting suit of summer 
clothes. 

“ Take a seat,” said Lodloe, “ and tell me to what I 
owe this call.” 

“ To your lamp,” said the other, taking a chair, “ it 
wasn’t burning very brightly, but still it was a light, 
and the only one about. I was on my way to Leth- 
bury, but I couldn’t get any sort of conveyance at 
Bomney, so I footed it, thinking I would like a moon- 
light walk. But by the time I got to the squirrel on 
the post I thought I would turn in here and stay with 
Stephen Better for the night ; but the house was all 

72 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

shut up and dark, except this room, and as I knew 
that if I woke Stephen out of a sound sleep he’d hang 
me over the head with his everlasting Kockmores of 
Germantown, I determined to take a night’s lodging 
without saying a word to him about it. 

“There’s a room back here that you can only get 
into by a ladder put up on the outside. I knew all 
about it, so I went to the ice-house and got a ladder, 
and climbed into the room. I put my valise under 
my head, and prepared to take a good sleep on the 
floor ; but in three minutes I found the place was full 
of wasps. I couldn’t stay there, you know ; and I was 
just getting ready to go down the ladder again when 
I happened to look out of a window that opened on 
the roof, and saw you in here. I could see only the 
back of your head; but although it was pretty well 
lighted, I couldn’t judge very well by that what sort of 
a person you were. But I saw you were smoking, and 
it struck me that a man who smokes is generally a 
pretty good fellow, and so I came over.” 

“ Glad to see you,” said Lodloe, “ and what can I 
do for you ? ” 

“Well, in the first place,” said Beam, “have you 
any liquid ammonia? The first notice I had of the 
wasps in that room was this sting on my finger.” 

Lodloe was sorry that he did not possess anything 
of the kind. 

“ If I’m not mistaken,” said the visitor, “ there is a 
bottle of it on the top shelf of that closet. I have 
frequently occupied this room, and I remember put- 
ting some there myself. May I look for it ? ” 

Permission being given, Mr. Beam speedily found 
the bottle, and assuaged the pains of his sting. 

73 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

then/’ said he^ resuming his seat^ “the next 
favor I’ll ask will be to allow me to fill my pipe^ and 
put to you a few questions as to the way the land lies 
about here at present. I’ve been away for a year and 
a half, and don’t know what’s going on, or who’s dead 
or alive. By the way, have you happened to hear 
anybody speak of me? ” 

“ I should think so ! ” said Lodloe, laughing. “ The 
greater part of this evening was occupied in a discus- 
sion on your life, adventures, moral character, disx)0- 
sition, and mental bias. There may have been some 
other points touched upon, but I don’t recall them 
just now.” 

“ Upon my word,” said Lanigan Beam, putting his 
arms on the table and leaning forward, “this is in- 
teresting. Who discussed me? ” 

“Mr. and Mrs. Better had the most to say,” an- 
swered Lodloe. 

“I’m glad to hear they’re alive,” interpolated the 
other. 

“And Mrs. Cristie, who knew you when her hus- 
band was alive.” 

“Dead, is he?” said Beam. “Very sorry to hear 
that. A mighty pretty woman is Mrs. Cristie.” 

“Miss Calthea Rose was not present,” continued 
Lodloe, “but her opinions were quoted very freely 
by the others, and sometimes combated.” 

“Calthea alive, is she?” ejaculated Beam. “Well, 
well, I ought to be glad to hear it, and I suppose I am. 
Anybody else ? ” 

“ Yes j there was Mr. Tippengray, one of the guests 
at the inn. There are only three of us in all. He 
had heard a great deal about you from Miss Rose. 

74 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

She seems to have been very communicative to 
him.” 

“Chums, are they?” cried Lanigan Beam. “Well, 
bless his soul, I say, whatever sort of man he is. Now, 
what did they say about me ? ” 

“ It’s my oi^iuiou,” answered Lodloe, smiling, “ that 
it is a very unsafe thing to tell a man what other 
people say about him.” 

Lanigan sprang to his feet, and stood, pipe in hand, 
before the other. “Now, sir,” said he, “I have not 
heard your name yet— Lodloe ; thank you. Now, Mr. 
Lodloe, I have before me the greatest chance of my 
life. It almost never happens that a man has an op- 
portunity of hearing a straightforward account of what 
I)eople say about him. Now, if you want to do the 
biggest kind of favor to a fellow-being, just tell me 
what you heard of me to-night. You are a perfect 
stranger to me, and you can speak out plainly about 
it without having the least feeling one way or the 
other.” 

Lodloe looked at him. 

“ Here’s a chance,” he said to himself, “ that seldom 
comes to a man : an opportunity to tell a man exactly 
what his friends and neighbors think about him. It’s 
a rare experience, and I like it. I’ll do it.” 

“Very good,” said he, aloud, “if you want to see 
yourself as others see you. I’ll turn on the lights and 
act as showman ; but remember, I have nothing to do 
with the painting. I have no prejudices one way or 
the other.” 

“All right,” said Lanigan, reseating himself, “let 
the panorama move.” 

“About the first thing I was told,” said Lodloe, 

75 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

^^was that you were a good-hearted fellow, but the 
fact that your father was an Irishman had deprived 
your character of ballast.’’ 

^^Umph,” said Lanigan, there are some people 
who are all ballast. I don’t mind that.” 

And then I heard that although you were a wild 
and irresponsible youth, people generally expected 
that as you grew older you would gradually accumu- 
late ballast ; but instead of that you had steadily gone 
downhill from the moment of your birth.” 

Now, then,” said Lanigan, I suppose I have no 
right to ask you, but I would like very much to know 
who said that.” 

don’t object in the least to telling you,” said 
Lodloe ; ^4t is fitter that you should know it than 
that I should know it. That was a quoted opinion of 
Miss Calthea Rose.” 

Good for you,” said Lanigan, you’d be death to 
the members of a scandal-monger society. You would 
break up the business utterly.” 

To this Mr. Fetter remarked,” said Lodloe, that 
he thought in many ways you had improved very 
much, but he was obliged to admit that he could 
not think of anything that you had done which was 
of the least benefit to yourself or anybody else.” 

“ Upon my word ! ” cried Lanigan, that’s a pretty 
wide sweep for old Fetter. I shall have to rub up his 
memory. He forgets that I helped him to make the 
plans for this house. And what did Mrs. Cristie say 
about me ? ” 

She said she thought it was a great pity that you 
did not apply yourself to something or other.” 

She is right there,” said Beam, and, by George ! 

76 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

I’ll apply myself to her. However, I don’t know about 
that,” he continued. What else did Calthea say ? ” 

“ One remark was that having proved false to every 
friend you had here, you had no right to returnl” 
That means,” said Mr. Beam, “ that having prom- 
ised at least five times to marry her, I never did it 
once.” 

‘‘Were you really engaged to her?” asked Lodloe. 

“ Oh, yes,” said the other, “ it seems to me as if I 
had always been engaged to her. Born that way. 
Sort of an ailment you get used to, like squinting. 
When I was a youngster Calthea was a mighty pretty 
girl— a good deal my senior, of course, or I wouldn’t 
have cared for her. As she grew older she grew 
prettier, and I was more and more in love with her. 
We used to have quarrels, but they didn’t make much 
difference, for after each one of them we engaged 
ourselves again, and all went on as before. But the 
time came when Calthea kept on being older than I 
was, and didn’t keep on being pretty and agreeable. 
Then I began to weaken about the marriage altar and 
all that sort of thing j but for all that I would have 
been perfectly willing to stay engaged to her for the 
rest of my life if she had wished it ; but one day she 
got jealous, kicked up a tremendous row, and away I 
went.” 

“Well,” said Lodloe, “she must have considered 
that was the best thing you could do for her, for Mrs. 
Better said that she had heard her declare dozens of 
times that from her very youth you had hung like a 
millstone about her neck, and had blighted her every 
prospect, and that your return here would be like one 
of the plagues of Egypt.” 

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THE SQUIRREL INN 

Mixed, but severe/’ said Mr. Beam. ^^Bid auy* 
body say any good of me ? ” 

^^Yes/’ answered Lodloe, Mrs. Cristie said yon 
were an obliging fellow, altbongh very apt to forget 
wbat yon bad promised to do. Mr. Better said that 
yon bad a very friendly disposition, altbougb be was 
obliged to admit tbe trntb of bis wife’s remark that 
said disposition would bave been more agreeable to 
yonr friends if yon bad been as willing to do things 
for tbem as you were to bave them do tbings for you. 
And Mrs. Better, on ber own motion, summed up yonr 
character by saying that if yon bad not been so re- 
gardless of the welfare and wishes of others ; so totally 
given up to self-gratification ; so ignorant of all kinds 
of business, and so unwilling to learn ; so extravagant 
in your habits, and so utterly conscienceless in regard 
to your debts ; so neglectful of your promises and your 
duty ; so heretical in your opinions, political and re- 
ligious, and such a dreadful backslider from every- 
thing that you bad promised to be when a baby, you 
would be a very nice sort of fellow, whom she would 
like to see come into tbe bouse.” 

“Well,” said Lanigan Beam, leaning back in bis 
chair, “ that’s all of my bright side, is it? ” 

“Not quite,” said Lodloe, “Mr. Tippengray de- 
clared that you are tbe first man be ever beard of 
who did not possess a single good point ; that you 
must be very interesting, and that he would like to 
know you.” 

“Noble Tippengray!” said Mr. Beam. “And he’s 
tbe man who is chumming it with Caltbea? ” 

“Not at present,” said Lodloe, “ she is jealous, and 
doesn’t speak to him.” 


78 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

Mr. Beam let his head drop on his breast ; his arms 
hung down by his side, and he sank into his chair as 
if his spine had come unhinged. 

“ There goes the last prop from under me,’’ he said. 

If Calthea had a man in tow I wouldn’t be afraid of 
her, but now— well, no matter. If yon will let me 
take that bottle of ammonia with me, — I suppose by 
rights it now belongs to the house,— I’ll go back to 
that room and fight it out with the wasps. As I 
haven’t any good points, they’ll be able to put some 
into me. I’ll wager.” 

Lodloe laughed. You shall not go there,” he said. 

I have more bed-covering than I want, and an extra 
pillow, and if you can make yourself comfortable on 
that lounge, yon are welcome to stay here.” 

^^Sir,” said Lanigan Beam, rising, ^^I accept your 
offer, and if it were not that by so doing I would 
destroy the rare symmetry of my character, I would 
express my gratitude. And now I will go down your 
stairs and up my ladder, and get my valise.” 


79 


CHAPTER XII 

LAJ^IGAN CHANGES HIS CRAVAT 

Early the next morning, without disturbing the sleep 
of Walter Lodloe, Lanigan Beam descended from the 
tower, carrying his valise. His face wore that air of 
gravity which sometimes follows an early-morning 
hour of earnest reflection, and he had substituted a 
black cravat for the blue one with white spots that he 
had worn on his arrival. 

Walking out toward the barn, he met Mr. Fetter, 
who was one of the earliest risers on the place. 

The greeting given him by the landlord of the 
Squirrel Inn was a mixture of surprise, cordiality, 
and annoyance. 

Lanigan Beam ! ’’ he exclaimed. “ Why, I 
thought — 

“ Of course you did j I understand,’’ said the other, 
extending his hand with a dignifled superiority to 
momentary excitement in others. ^^You thought I 
would arrive at Lethbury in a day or two, and had no 
idea of seeing me here. You have reason, but I have 
changed my plans. I left Xew York earlier than I 
intended, and I am not going to Lethbury at all— at 
least, not to the hotel there. I greatly prefer this 
house.” 


80 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

A shade of decided trouble came over Mr. Fetter’s 
face. 

^‘Now, Lanigan/’ he said, “that will not do at all. 
Of course I don’t want to be hard on you, and I never 
was ,* but my season has commenced, I have my guests, 
my rules are in full force, and I cannot permit you to 
come here and disarrange my arrangements. If for 
once, Lanigan, you will take the trouble to think, you 
will see that for yourself.” 

“Mr. Fetter,” said the younger man, setting his 
valise upon the ground, “I have no desire to disar- 
range them y on the contrary, I would stamp them 
with fixity. And before we go any further, I beg that 
you be kind enough not to call me by my Christian 
name, and to endeavor to produce in yourself the 
conviction that since you last saw me I have been 
entirely rearranged and reconstructed. In order to 
do this, you have only to think of me as you used to 
think, and then exactly reverse your opinion. In this 
way you will get a true view of my present character. 
It does not suit me to do things partially or by de- 
grees, and I am now exactly the opposite of what I 
used to be. By keeping this in mind, any one who 
knew me before may consider himself or herself per- 
fectly acquainted with me now.” 

Stephen Fetter looked at him doubtfully. 

“ Of course,” he said, “ I shall be very glad— and so 
will Mrs. Fetter— to find that you have reformed, but 
as to your coming here — ” 

“ Now, then,” said Mr. Beam, “ I know you are not 
the man to allow trifles to stand in the way of impor- 
tant movements. I am here for a purpose, a great 
purpose, with which you will be in entire sympathy. 

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THE SQUIRREL INN 

I will say at once, frankly and openly, that my object 
is the improvement of Lethbury. I have a project 
which — 

Now, now, now ! exclaimed Mr. Fetter, with 
much irritation, I don’t want to hear anything more 
of any of your projects j I know all about them. They 
all begin with a demand for money from your friends, 
and that is the end of the project and the money.” 

^‘Stephen Fetter,” said the other, ‘^you are not 
looking at my character as I told yon to look at it. 
Every cent of the capital required for my operations 
I will contribute myself. No one will be allowed to 
subscribe any money whatever. This, yon see, is ex- 
actly the opposite of what used to be the case ; and 
when I tell you that the success of my plan will im- 
prove the business of Lethbury, elevate its moral and 
intellectual standard, exercise an ennobling and puri- 
fying influence upon the tone of its society, and give 
an almost incredible impetus to faith, hope, and 
charity in its moral atmosphere, — and all that with- 
out anybody’s being asked to give a copper, — I know 
you will agree with me that a mere matter of resi- 
dence should not be allowed to block this great work.” 

Since he had been assured that he was not to be 
asked to contribute money, Mr. Fetter’s face had 
shown relief and interest ; but now he shook his 
head. 

‘^This is my season,” he said, ‘^and I have my 
rules.” 

Lanigan Beam laid his hand upon the shoulder of 
his companion. 

Fetter,” said he, I don’t ask you to infract your 
rules. That would be against my every principle. I 

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THE SQUIRREL INN 

do not know tke Rockmores of Germantown, bnt if it 
were necessary I would immediately go and find them, 
and make their acquaintance — I should have no diffi- 
culty in doing it, I assure you ; but it is not necessary. 
I stayed last night with Mr. Lodloe, who occupies the 
top room of your tower. Don’t jump out of your 
boots. I went to him because there was a light in his 
room and the rest of the house was dark, and he ex- 
plained to me the Rockmorial reason why he occu- 
pies that room while the rest of your house is nearly 
empty. Now, you can do the same thing for me. Let 
me have that upper room with no stairway to it, 
give me the use of a ladder, and I shall be perfectly 
satisfied.” 

But the room’s not furnished,” said Mr. Fetter. 

‘^Oh, we can easily get over that little difficulty,” 
replied Mr. Beam, whatever furniture may be 
needed can easily be put in through the window. If 
there are any wasps up there I can fumigate them 
out. Now, we call that settled, don’t we? None of 
your rules broken, Lethbury regenerated, and noth- 
ing for you to do but look on and profit.” 

Mr. Fetter gazed reflectively upon the ground. 

‘‘ There can be no doubt,” said he, that Lethbury 
is in a stagnant condition, and if that condition could 
be improved it would be for the benefit of us all j 
and considering, furthermore, that if your project — 
which you have not yet explained to me— should be 
xinsuccessful, no one but yourself will lose any money, 
I see no reason why I should interfere with your 
showing the people of this neighborhood that your 
character has been reconstructed. But if you should 
lodge in that room it would make a very odd condi- 

83 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

tion of things. I should then have but three male 
guests, and not one of them literally living in my 
house.’’ 

Ah, my good friend Fetter,” said Lanigan, taking 
uj) his valise, you should know there is luck in odd 
conditions, as well as in odd numbers, and everything 
will turn out right, you may bet on that. Hello,” he 
continued, stepping back a little, ‘^who is that very 
pretty girl with a book in her hand? That cannot 
be Mrs. Cristie.” 

Oh, no,” said Mr. Fetter, that is her maid, who 
takes care of her child. I think the young woman has 
come out to study before beginning her daily duties.” 

Upon my word ! ” said Lanigan Beam, attentively 
regarding Miss Ida Mayberry as she daintily made 
her way across the dewy lawn to a rustic seat under a 
tree. Then, suddenly turning to Mr. Fetter, he said : 

Look you, my good Stephen, can’t you let me go 
in somewhere and furbish myself up a little before 
breakfast?” 

And having been shown into a room on the ground 
floor, Mr. Beam immediately proceeded to take off his 
black cravat and to replace it by the blue one with 
white spots. 


84 


CHAPTER XIII 


DECREES OF EXILE 

Toward the end of the afternoon of the day after 
Mr. Lanigan Beam had been installed as an outside 
guest of the Squirrel Inn, Miss Calthea Rose sat by 
the window at the back of her shop. This shop was a 
small one, but it differed from most other places of 
business in that it contained very few goods and was 
often locked up. When there is reason to suppose 
that if you go to a shop you will not be able to get 
in, and that, should it be open, you will not be able to 
find therein anything you want, it is not likely that 
such a shop will have a very good run of custom. 

This was the case with Miss Calthea’s establishment. 
It had become rare for any one even to propose cus- 
tom, but she did not in the least waver in regard to 
her plan of closing up the business left to her by her 
father. As has been said, she did not wish to continue 
this business, so she laid in no new stock, and as she 
had gradually sold off a great deal, she expected to be 
able in time to sell off everything. She did not adopt 
the usual methods of clearing out a stock of goods, 
because these would involve sacrifices, and, as Miss 
Calthea very freely said to those who spoke to her on 
the subject, there was no need whatever for her to 

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THE SQUIRREL INN 

make sacrifices. She was good at waiting^ and she 
could wait When she sold the few things which 
remained on the shelves— and she, as well as nearly 
every one in the village, knew exactly what these 
things were without the trouble of looking— she would 
retire from business, and have the shop altered into a 
front parlor. Until then the articles which remained 
on hand were for sale. 

Miss Calthea was busily sewing, but she was much 
more busily engaged in thinking. So earnestly was 
her mind set upon the latter occupation that she 
never raised her head to look out at the special varie- 
ties of hollyhocks, dahlias, and marigolds which had 
lately begun to show their beauties in the beds be- 
neath her window, nor did she glance toward the 
door to see if any one were coming in. She had much 
more important things to think about than flowers or 
customers. 

Mrs. Fetter had driven over to Lethbury. that morn- 
ing, and had told Calthea all the news of the Squirrel 
Inn. She had told her of the unexpected arrival of 
Lanigan Beam, of his unwillingness to go to Leth- 
bury, as he had originally intended, and of the quar- 
ters that had been assigned to him in the ladder room. 
She also told how Lanigan, who now wished to be 
called Mr. Beam, had a wonderful plan in his mind 
for the improvement of Lethbury ; but whether it was 
electric lights, or gas, or water, or street railroads, or 
a public library, he would not tell anybody. He was 
going to work in his own way, and all he would say 
about the scheme was that he did not want anybody 
to give him money for it. And this, Mrs. Fetter had 
remarked, had helped Mr. Fetter and herself to be- 

86 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

lieve what Lanigan had said about his amendment, 
for if anything could show a change in him, it would 
be his not wanting people to give him money. 

Mrs. Petter had said a great deal about the new- 
comer, and had declared that whatever alterations 
had gone on in his mind, soul, and character, he cer- 
tainly had improved in appearance, and was a very 
good-looking young man, with becoming clothes. In 
one way, however, he had not changed, for in a sur- 
prisingly short time he had made friends with every- 
body on the place. He talked to Mr. Lodloe as if he 
had been an old chnm ; he had renewed his acquaint- 
ance with Mrs. Cristie, and was very gallant to her ,* 
he was hand in glove with Mr. Tippengray, both of 
them laughing together and making jokes as if they 
had always known each other ; and, more than that, it 
was not an hour after breakfast when he and Mrs. 
Cristie’s nurse-maid were sitting on a bench under 
the trees, reading out of the same book, while Mr. 
Tippengray was i^ushing the baby-carriage up and 
down on the grass, and Mrs. Cristie and Mr. Lodloe 
were putting up the lawn-tennis net. 

I could see for myself,’’ Mrs. Petter had remarked 
at this point, ^Hhat you were right in saying that 
there was no use in my talking about the boarders 
associating with servants ; for when they made up the 
lawn-tennis game, it turned out that Mr. Tippengray 
didn’t play, and so that girl Ida had to take a hand, 
while he kept on neglecting his Greek for the baby.” 

At last Miss Calthea let her sewing drop into her 
lap, and sat looking at an empty shelf opposite to her. 

Yes,” she said to herself, her lips moving, although 
no sound was audible, “ the first thing to do is to get 

' 87 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

Lanigan away. As long as lie is here I might as well 
not lift a finger 5 and it looks as if that impertinent 
minx of a child’s nurse would be my best help. If he 
doesn’t have one of his changeable fits, he will be 
ready in three days to follow her anywhere j but I 
must look sharp, for at this very minute he may be 
making love to the widow. Of course he hasn’t any 
chance with her, but it would be just like Lanigan to 
go in strongest where he knew he hadn’t any chance. 
However, I shall see for myself how matters stand, 
and one thing is certain— Lanigan has got to go.” 

About this time Mr. Lanigan Beam, finding himself 
with a solitary quarter of an hour on his hands, was 
reflecting on a bench upon the lawn of the Squirrel 
Inn. “Yes,” he thought, “ it is a great plan. It will 
elevate the social tone of Lethbury, it will purify the 
moral atmosphere of the surrounding country, and, 
above all, it will make it possible for me to live here. 
It will give me an opportunity to become a man 
among men in the place where I was born. Until 
this thing is done I can have no chance to better 
myself here, and, more than that, the community has 
no chance to better itself. Yes, it must be done ,* 
Calthea Kose must go.” 

At this moment Mr. Better came along, on his way 
to supper. 

“Well, Lanigan,” said he, “are you thinking about 
your great enterprise?” 

“Yes,” said the other, rising and walking with 
him, “that is exactly what my mind was working 
on.” 

“And you are going to do it all yourself?” said 
Mr. Better. 


88 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

“IN'ot exactly/^ said Beam. “I shall not require 
any pecuniary assistance, but I shall want some one 
to help me.” 

Is there anybody about here who can do it? ” 

Yes ; I hope so,” said Lanigan. At present I am 
thinking of Mr. Tippengray.” 

A very good choice,” said Mr. Fetter ; he is a 
man of fine mind, and it will certainly be to your ad- 
vantage if you can get him to work with you.” 

Indeed it will be,” said Lanigan Beam, with much 
earnestness. 


89 


CHAPTER XIY 


BACKING OUT 

Ida Maybeeby was walking on the narrow road 
which led through the woods from the Squirrel Inn 
to the public highway. She had been much inter- 
ested in the road when she had been driven through 
it on the day of her arrival^ and had availed herself 
of the opportunity given her this pleasant afternoon, 
by the prolonged slumbers of Master Douglas Cristie, 
to make a close acquaintance with its attractions. 

It was indeed a pleasant road, where there were 
tall trees that often met overhead j and on each side 
there were bushes and vines and wild flowers, and 
little vistas opening into the woods, and rabbits run- 
ning across the roadway ; a ^ hallow stream tumbling 
along its stony bed, sometimes to be seen and some- 
times only heard ; yellow butterflies in the air 5 and 
glimpses above, that afternoon, of blue sky and white 
clouds. 

When she had walked about half the length of the 
road. Miss Mayberry came to a tree with a large 
branch running horizontally about three feet from 
the ground and then turning uj) again, so as to make 
a very good seat for young people who like that sort 
of thing. Ida was a young person who liked that sort 

90 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

of thing, and she speedily clambered upon the broad 
horizontal branch and bestowed herself quite comfort- 
ably there. Taking off her hat and leaning her head 
against the upright portion of the branch, she con- 
tinued the reflections she had been making while 
walking. 

“ Yes,^’ she said to herself, ^4t will be wise in me 
not only to make up my mind that I will not grow to 
be an old maid, but to prevent people from thinking 
I am going to grow to be one. I believe that people 
are very apt to think that way about teachers. Per- 
haps it is because they are always contrasted with 
younger persons. There is no reason why girl 
teachers should be different from other girls. Mar- 
riage should be as practically advantageous to them 
as to any others, only they should be more than 
usually circumspect in regard to their partners ; that 
is, if they care for careers, w^hich I am sure I do. 

^^Now, the situation in this place seems to me to be 
one which I ought seriously to consider. It is gen- 
erally agreed that propinquity is the cause of most 
marriages, but I think that a girl ought to be very 
careful not to let propinquity get the better of her. 
She should regulate and control propinquities. 

“ Here, now, is Mr. Lodloe. He seems to be a very 
suitable sort of a man, young and good-looking, and, 
I think, endowed with brains ; but I have read two of 
his stories, and I see no promise in them, and I doubt 
if he would sympathize with good, hard study ; besides, 
he is devoting himself to Mrs. Cristie, and he is out 
of the question. Mr. Tippengray is an exceedingly 
agreeable man, and a true student. To marry him 
would be in itself a higher education. But he is not a 

91 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

bit young. I think he is at least fifty, perhaps more ; 
and then, supposing that he should retain his mental 
vigor until he is seventy, that would give only twenty 
years of satisfactory intellectual companionship. That 
is a point that ought to be very carefully weighed. 

As to Mr. Beam, he is older than I am, but he is 
young enough. Upon the probable duration of his 
life one might predicate forty years of mental activity, 
and from what I have seen of him he appears to have 
a good intellect. They talk about an aqueduct and 
waterworks he is about to construct. That indicates 
the study of geology, and engineering capacity, and 
such a bias of mind would suit me very well. Mrs. 
Better tells me that he is really and truly engaged to 
that old thing from Lethbury ; but as she also said 
that he is heartily tired of the engagement, I don’t 
see why it should be considered. He is as likely to 
correct his errors of matrimonial inclination as he is 
those of mathematical computation ; and as for her, I 
should not let her stand in my way for one minute. 
Any woman who is as jealous about a man as she is 
about Mr. Tippengray has waived her right in all 
other men.” 

About this time a phaeton, drawn by a stout sorrel 
horse, and containing Miss Calthea Kose, was turning 
from the highroad into this lane. As a rule. Miss Cal- 
thea greatly preferred walking to driving, and al- 
though her father had left her a horse and several 
vehicles, she seldom made personal use of them ; but 
to-day she was going to Bomney, which was too far 
away for walking, and she had planned to stop at the 
Squirrel Inn and ask Mrs. Cristie to go with her. 

It was necessary, for the furtherance of Miss Cal- 

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THE SQUIRREL INN 

thea’s plans, that she should be on good terms with 
Mrs. Cristie. She ought, in fact, to be intimate with 
her, so that when the time came she could talk to her 
freely and plainly. It was desirable, indeed, that she 
should maintain a friendly connection with every- 
body at the Squirrel Inn. She had not yet met 
Lanigan Beam, and it would be well if he should be 
made to feel that she looked upon him merely as an 
old companion, and cared for him neither more nor 
less than one cares for ordinary old companions. 
Thus he would feel perfectly free to carry out his 
own impulses and her desires. 

Toward Mr. Tippengray she had decided to 
soften. She was still very angry with him, but it 
would not do to repel him from herself, for that 
might impel him toward another, and spoil two of 
her plans. Even to that impertinent child^s nurse she 
would be civil. She need have but little to do with 
the creature, but she must not let any one suppose 
that she harbored ill feeling toward her, and, with 
the exception of Mrs. Better, no one would suppose 
she had any reason for such feelings. In fact, as Miss 
Calthea’s mind dwelt upon this subject, she came to 
think that it would be a very good thing if she could 
do some kindness or service to this girl. This would 
give effect to what she might afterward be obliged 
to say about her. 

Having reached this point in her cogitations, she 
also reached the point in the road where Ida May- 
berry still sat making her plans, and concealed from 
the view of those coming from the direction of the 
highroad by a mass of projecting elderberry bushes. 
Hearing an approaching vehicle, the young woman on 

93 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

the horizontal limb, not wishing to be seen perched 
upon this elevated seat, sprang to the ground, which 
she touched about four feet from the nose of the sorrel 
horse. 

This animal, which was trotting along in a quiet 
and reflective way, as if he also were making plans, 
was greatly startled by this sudden flash of a light- 
colored mass, this rustle, this waving, this thud upon 
the ground, and he bounded sidewise entirely across 
the road, stopping with his head in the bushes on the 
other side. 

Miss Calthea, who was nearly thrown from her seat, 
could not repress a scream, and, turning, perceived 
Ida Mayberry. 

^^Did you do that?” she cried. 

I am sorry that I made your horse shy,” said Ida, 
approaching the vehicle, ^^but he seems to be per- 
fectly quiet now, and I hope nothing is broken. 
Horses ought to be taught not to shy ; but I suppose 
that w'ould be difficult, considering the small size of 
their brain cavities.” 

“If some people had as much brains as a horse,” 
muttered Miss Calthea, “ it would be better for them. 
Back, Sultan ! Do you hear me ? Back ! ” And she 
tugged with all her strength upon the reins. 

But the sorrel horse did not move. He had two 
reasons for refusing to obey his mistress. In the first 
place, on general principles he disliked to back, and 
was fully conscious that Miss Calthea could not make 
him do it 5 and in the second place, he wanted a 
drink, and did not intend to move nntil he got it. 
Just here the brook was at its widest and deepest, 
and it came so near the road that in shying Sultan 

94 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

liad entered it so far that the front wheels of the 
phaeton nearly touched the water. Standing more 
than fetlock deep in this cool stream^ it is no wonder 
that Sultan wanted some one to loosen his check-rein 
and let him drink. 

am afraid yon are not strong enough to hack 
him out of that/’ said Ida^ and if there were not so 
much water all around him I would go and take him 
by the head.” 

Let him alone/’ cried Miss Calthea. “ Back, Sul- 
tan ! Back, I say ! ” And she pulled and pulled, 
tiring herself greatly, but making no impression upon 
the horse. 

Now appeared upon the scene Mrs. Cristie, pushing 
her baby- carriage. She had come to look for Ida. 
She was full of sympathy when she heard what had 
happened, and, pushing Douglas into a safe place be- 
hind a tree, came forward and proposed that some 
one go for a man. But Calthea Bose did not want a 
man. She was very proud of her abilities as a horse- 
woman, and she did not wish a man to behold her in- 
feriority in emergencies of this sort. She therefore op- 
posed the suggestion, and continued to pull and tug. 

That will never do,” said Ida Mayberry, who had 
been earnestly regarding the situation. You cannot 
make him move, and even if we did go into the water, 
he might jump about and tread on us. But I have 
thought of a way in which I think we can make him 
back. You are pretty heavy. Miss Bose, and Mrs. 
Cristie is lighter than I am, so she ought to get into 
the phaeton and take the reins, and you and I ought 
to help back the phaeton. I have seen it done, and I 
can tell you how to do it.” 

95 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

To this Miss Calthea paid no immediate attention 5 
but as Mrs. Cristie urged that if Ida knew about such 
things it would be well to let her try what she could 
do, and as Miss Calthea found that tugging at Sultan’s 
bit amounted to nothing, she stepped out of the low 
vehicle and demanded to know what the child’s nurse 
proposed to do. 

“Now, jump in, Mrs. Cristie,” said Ida, “and when 
I give the word you pull the reins with all your 
might, and shout ^ Back ! ’ at him. Miss Bose, you go 
to that hind wheel, and I will go to this one. Now, 
put one foot on a spoke, so, and take hold of the 
wheel, and when I say ‘ Now ! ’ we will both raise our- 
selves up and put our whole weight on the spoke, and 
Mrs. Cristie will pull on him at the same instant.” 

Somewhat doggedly, but anxious to get out of her 
predicament, Miss Calthea took her position at the 
wheel, and put one foot upon an almost horizontal 
spoke. Ida did the same, and then, giving the word, 
both women raised themselves from the ground ; Mrs. 
Cristie gave a great pull, and shouted, “ Back ! ” Then, 
as the hind wheels began slowly to revolve, the aston- 
ished horse, involuntarily obeying the double impulse 
thus given him, backed a step or two. 

“ Now, again ! ” cried Ida, and the process was 
repeated, this time the horse backing himself out of 
the water. 

“ Bravo ! ” cried Lanigan Beam, who, with Walter 
Lodloe, had arrived on the scene just as Calthea Bose 
and Ida Mayberry had made their second graceful 
descent from an elevated spoke to the ground. 


96 


CHAPTER XV 


THE BABY IS PASSED ABOUND 

^^Good for you^ Calthy/^ cried Lanigan Beam^ ad- 
vancing with outstretched hands. ‘^How do you dof 
Old Sultan is at his tricks again, is he, declining to 
back ? But you got the better of him that time, and 
did it well, too.’^ 

In his admiration of the feat he had witnessed, the 
credit of which he gave entirely to his old and well- 
tried fiancee, Lanigan forgot for the moment his plan 
for the benefit of Lethbury. 

Irritated and embarrassed as she was. Miss Calthea 
did not forget her intention of treating Lanigan Beam 
as a person between whom and herself there could be 
nothing of a connecting kind which could be set up 
as something of an obstructing kind between herself 
and any one else. She therefore took his hand, made 
a few commonplace remarks about his return, and 
then, excusing herself, approached Mrs. Cristie, who 
was just about to alight from the phaeton, and gave 
her the invitation to drive to Romney. That lady 
hesitated a few moments, and then, remembering 
some shopping she would like to do, accepted j and 
the attention of Miss Mayberry having been called to 

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the baby- carriage behind the tree, the two ladies 
drove off. 

Ida Mayberry gazed for a moment at the departing 
vehicle, and then, turning to Mr. Beam, she said : 

‘^She might at least have thanked me for getting 
her out of that scrape.’^ 

Was that your idea?^^ said Lanigan. 

Of course it was,’^ said the young woman. If I 
hadn’t shown her how to make the horse back, she 
would have pulled her arms out for nothing. It is 
easy to see that she does not know anything about 
managing horses.” 

Lanigan laughed outright. 

“ I would advise you not to say that to her,” he said. 

‘‘I would as soon say it to her as not,” said Ida, 
somebody ought to do it. Why, if that horse had 
shied toward me instead of away from me when I 
jumped from that tree, I might have been very much 
hurt.” 

Lanigan laughed again, but this time inwardly. 

Do you like yellow flowers, Miss Mayberry? ” said 
he. The largest wild coreopsis I ever saw grow in 
this region. I noticed some in a field we just passed. 
Shall I gather a few for you ? ” 

I am very fond of that flower,” said Ida ; and Mr. 
Beam declaring that if she would step a little way 
with him he would show her a whole field of them, 
the two walked up the road. 

Walter Lodloe had been gazing with some dissatis- 
faction at the departing phaeton. His mind was get- 
ting into a condition which made it unpleasant for 
him to see people take Mrs. Cristie away from him. 
He now turned and looked at the baby-carriage, in 

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whicli the infant Douglas was sitting up, endeavor- 
ing by various noises to attract attention to himself. 
Lodloe pulled the vehicle into the road, and finding 
that the motion quieted its occupant, he began slowly 
to push it toward the Squirrel Inn. When Walter 
Lodloe turned into the open space about the inn, he 
met Mr. Tippengray with a book in his hand. . 

‘‘Keally,’^ said the latter, elevating his eyebrows, 
heard the creaking of those little wheels, and I—” 
Thought Miss Mayberry was making them creak,” 
said Lodloe. But she is not, and you may as well 
postpone the lesson I suppose you want to give her. 
She is at present taking lessons in botany from an- 
other professor ; ” and he hereupon stated in brief the 
facts of the desertion of the infant Douglas. ‘^Now, 
what am I going to do with the little chap % ” he con- 
tinued. “ I must search for Mrs. Better.” 

“ Don’t do that,” said the Greek scholar, quickly, 
it would not look well for the young woman. Let me 
have the child ; I will take care of it until she comes. 
I will wheel it down to my summer-house, where it is 
cool and shady.” 

‘‘And an excellent spot to teach Greek,” said 
Lodloe, laughing. 

“ A capital place,” gayly replied Mr. Tippengray, 
putting his book into his pocket, and taking hold of 
the handle of the little carriage, elated by the feeling 
that in so doing he was also, for a time, getting a hold 
upon Miss Mayberry. 

“Yes,” he continued, “it is just the place for me; 
it suits me in all sorts of ways, and I have a mind to 
tell you of a most capital joke connected with it. It 
is too good a thing to keep to myself any longer, and 

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THE SQUIRREL INN 

now that I know you so well, I am perfectly willing 
to trust you. Would you believe it*? I know the 
Kockmores of Germantown. I know them very well, 
and hate them for a lot of prigs. But I never told 
Stephen Better. Not I ! In some way or other he 
took it for granted that I did not possess the valuable 
acquaintanceship, and I let him think so. Ha ! ha ! 
ThaBs the way I got the summer-house, don’t you 
see ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” 

Lodloe laughed. ^‘Your secret is safe with me,” 
said he, and the two having reached the little garden, 
he left the Greek scholar and went to his room. 

When Ida Mayberry had her arms full of the great 
yellow flowers she suddenly appreciated the fact that 
she must be a long way from the baby, and ought 
immediately to return to it. She thereupon hastened 
back across the uneven surface of the fleld. When 
she reached the spot where the baby had been left, 
no baby was there. 

My goodness ! ” she exclaimed, Mr. Lodloe has 
taken the child away, and there is no knowing which 
way he has gone.” 

Oh, the youngster’s all right,” said Lanigan. ‘‘ Sit 
down and rest yourself, and we will walk to the inn.” 

^^Not a bit of it!” exclaimed Ida. ‘‘You go that 
way, and I will go this, and if you see him, call out 
as loud as you can.” 

Very reluctantly Mr. Beam obeyed orders, and hur- 
ried in the direction of the highroad. 

As he sat down by his open window, Walter Lodloe 
looked out and saw Ida Mayberry running. Instantly 
there was a shout from the summer-house and the 
wave of a handkerchief. Then the nurse-maid ceased 

100 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

to ruDj but walked rapidly in the direction of the 
handkerchief- waver, who stood triumphantly pointing 
to the baby- carriage. After a glance at the baby to 
see that he was all right, Miss Mayberry seated her- 
self on a bench in the shade, and took off her hat. In 
a few moments the Greek scholar was seated by her, 
the book was opened, and two heads were together in 
earnest study. 

About ten minutes later Lodloe saw Lanigan Beam 
appear upon the lawn, walking rapidly. In a moment 
he caught sight of the group at the summer-house, 
and stopped short. He clinched his fists and slightly 
stamped one foot. 

Lodloe now gave a low whistle, and Lanigan glan- 
cing upward at the sound, he beckoned to him to come 
to his tower room. The young man at first hesitated, 
and then walked slowly toward the little garden, and 
ascended the outside stairway. 

Lodloe greeted him with a smile. 

“As you seemed doubtful about joining the little 
company down there, I thought I would ask you up 
here,’^ he said. 

Lanigan walked to the window and gazed out at 
the summer-house. 

“ They are having a good, cosey time of it,’^ said he, 
“ but that won’t do. That sort of thing has got to be 
stopped.” 

“Why won’t it do?” asked Lodloe. “What is the 
matter with it, and who is going to stop it ? ” 

“ It’s sheer nonsense,” said Beam, turning away from 
the window and throwing himself into a chair. “Why 
should an old fellow like Tippengray take up all the 
spare time of that girl? She doesn’t need to learn 

101 


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anything. From what she has said to me I judge 
that she knows too much already.^’ 

It strikes me/’ said Lodloe, that if he likes to 
teach her, and she likes to learn, it is nobody’s busi- 
ness but their own, unless Mrs. Cristie should think 
that her interests were being neglected.” He spoke 
quietly, although he was a little provoked at the tone 
of his companion. 

“ Well,” said Mr. Beam, stretching his legs upon a 
neighboring chair, “I object to that intimacy for two 
reasons. In the first place, it keeps me away from 
Miss Mayberry, and I am the sort of person she ought 
to associate with, esx^ecially in her vacation j and in 
the second place, it keeps old Tippengray away from 
Calthea Kose. That is bad, very bad. Mrs. Fetter 
tells me that before Miss Mayberry arrived Calthea 
and the Greek were as chummy and as happy together 
as any two people could be. It is easy to see that 
Calthea is dead in love with him, and if she had been 
let alone I am confident she would have married him 
before the summer was over.” 

And you think that desirable!” asked Lodloe. 

“ Of course I do,” cried Lanigan, sitting up straight 
in his chair and speaking earnestly, it would be the 
best thing in the world. Calthea has had a hard time 
with her various engagements,— all of them with me, 
—and now that she has found the man she likes she 
ought to have him. It would be a splendid match. 
He might travel where he pleased, and Calthea would 
be an honor to him. She could hold her own with 
the nobility and gentry, and the crowned heads, for 
that matter. By George ! it would make him two 
inches taller to walk through a swell crowd with Cal- 

102 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

thea on his arm, dressed as she would dress, and carry- 
ing her head as she would carry it.’’ 

‘‘You seem to be a match-maker,” said Lodloe, 
“ but I don’t meddle in that sort of thing. I greatly 
prefer to let people take care of their own affairs. 
But I feel bound to say to you that after Ida May- 
berry neglected her duty to go off with you, I deter- 
mined to advise Mrs. Cristie to dispense with the 
services of such a very untrustworthy nurse-maid.” 

Lanigan Beam sprang to his feet. “ Don’t you do 
that ! ” he cried. “ I beg of you not to do that.” 

“Why not?” said Lodloe. “That would aid your 
philanthropic plan in regard to Miss Bose and Mr. 
Tippengray. The maid away, there is no reason why 
they should not come together again.” • 

“Now, I am a straightforward, honest man,” said 
Lanigan, “and I tell you plainly that that would be 
very hard on me. I’ve come here to my native place 
to settle down, and if I settle I’ve got to marry ; and I 
have never seen a girl whom I would rather marry 
and settle with than Miss Mayberry. She may be’a 
little slack about taking care of the baby, but I’ll talk 
to her about that, and I know she wiU keep a closer 
eye on him. Now, if you want to see everybody 
happy, don’t prejudice Mrs. Cristie against that girl. 
Give me a chance, and I’ll win her into the right way ; 
and I’ll do it easily and naturally, without making 
hard blood or hurting anybody. Then old Tip and 
Calthea will come together again, and everything will 
be jolly. Now, don’t you go and blast the happiness 
of all of us, and get that poor girl turned off like a 
drunken cook. And as for taking good care of the 
baby, just look at her now.” 

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THE SQUIRREL INN 

Lodloe looked out of the window. Ida Mayberry 
was leaning forward on the bench, twirling a great 
yellow flower before the child, who was laughing and 
making snatches at it. In a moment appeared Mr. 
Tippengray with a large white daisy ; he leaned over 
the other side of the carriage and twirled his flower in 
front of the baby. The little fellow was in great glee, 
first clutching at one blossom and then at the other 5 
and Mr. Tippengray laughed, and Miss Mayberry 
laughed, and the three laughed together. 

Confound it ! ” said Lanigan Beam, with a frown, 

this thing must be stopped.” 

Lodloe smiled. “Work matters your own way,” 
he said, “ I shall not interfere.” 

An hour later, when Calthea Bose and Mrs. Cristie 
returned from Bomney, Ida Mayberry was walking by 
the side of the baby-carriage, which Lanigan Beam 
was pushing toward the spot from which there was 
the best view of the western sky. 

Mrs. Cristie looked at them, and said to herself : 

“I don’t altogether like that sort of thing, and I 
think it must be stopped.” 

Calthea Bose appeared to have recovered her good 
humor. She looked about her, apparently satisfied 
with the world and its ways, and readily accepted 
Mrs. Better’s invitation to stay to tea. 


104 


CHAPTEK XVI 


MESSES. BEAM AND LODLOE DECLINE TO WAIT 
FOE THE SECOND TABLE 

As has been before mentioned, Walter Lodloe had 
grown into a condition of mind which made it un- 
pleasant for him when people took Mrs. Cristie away 
or occupied her time and attention to the exclusion 
of his occupancy of the same. As a literary man he 
had taken an interest in studying the character of 
Mrs. Cristie, and he had now come to like the char- 
acter even better than he liked the study. 

A pretty woman, of a lively and independent dis- 
position and quick wit, and yet with certain matronly 
and practical points in her character, which always 
surprised as well as pleased him when they showed 
themselves, Mrs. Cristie could not fail to charm such 
a man as Lodloe, if the two remained long enough 
together. She had charmed him, and he knew it 
and liked it, and was naturally anxious to know 
whether, in the slightest degree, she thought of him 
as he thought of her. But he had never been able to 
perceive any indication of this. The young widow 
was kind, gracious, and at times delightfully intimate 
with him, but he knew enough of the world to under- 
stand that this sort of thing in this sort of place might 

105 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

not in the least indicate that what was growing up in 
him was growing up in her. 

On the afternoon of the day after Miss Calthea 
Rose had taken tea at the Squirrel Inn, W alter Lodloe 
came down from his room in the tower with no other 
object in life than to find Mrs. Cristie. It was about 
the hour that she usually appeared on the lawn, and 
if there should follow tennis, or talking, or walking, 
or anything else, one thing would be the same as an- 
other to Lodloe, provided he and she took part. But 
when he saw Mrs. Cristie her avocation was one in 
which he could not take part. 

She was sitting on a bench by Mr. Tippengray, Ida 
Mayberry was sitting at his other side, and the ever- 
lasting baby-carriage was standing near by. The 
Greek scholar and the nurse-maid each had a book, 
but these were closed, and Mr. Tippengray was talking 
with great earnestness and animation, while the young 
women appeared to be listening with eager interest. 
It was plain that the two were taking a lesson in 
something or other. 

As Lodloe walked slowly from the gate of the little 
garden, Mrs. Cristie looked up for a moment, saw him, 
but instantly resumed her attentive listening. This 
was enough ; he perceived that for the present, at 
least, he was not wanted. He strolled on toward the 
field, and just below the edge of the bluff he saw 
Lanigan Beam sitting under a tree. 

“ Hello ! said the latter, looking up, ‘‘ are they at 
that stupid business yet*? ’’ 

Lodloe smiled. ‘^Are you waiting for Miss May- 
berry to get through with her lesson?^’ he asked. 

“Yes, I am,’’ said Lanigan. “I have been hanging 

106 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

around here for half an hour. I never saw such a 
selfish old codger as that Tippengray. I suppose he 
will stick there with them the whole afternoon.’’ 

And you want him ! ” said Lodloe. 

‘AVant him!” exclaimed Lanigan. ^‘Not much! 
But I want her. If there were only two together I 
would do as I did yesterday. I would join them, take 
a part, and before long carry her off. But I can’t do 
that with Mrs. Cristie there. I haven’t the cheek to 
break up her studies.” 

Lodloe laughed. “ Don’t let us wait for the second 
table,” he said, come and take a walk to Lethbury.” 

It was now Lanigan’s turn to smile. 

^^You think you would better not wait for the 
second table,” he said, very well, then ; come on.” 

The lesson on the bench had been deliberately 
planned by Mrs. Cristie. She had been considering 
the subject of her nurse-maid and Lanigan Beam, and 
had decided that it was her duty to interfere with the 
growth of that intimacy. She felt that it was her 
duty to exercise some personal supervision over the 
interests of the young person in her service, and had 
given her some guarded advice in regard to country- 
resort intimacies. 

Having given this advice to Ida Mayberry, it struck 
Mrs. Cristie that it would apply very well to herself. 
She remembered that she was also a young jierson, and 
she resolved to take to herself all the advice she had 
given to her nurse-maid. And thus it was that she 
was sitting on the bench by Mr. Tippengray, listening 
to his very interesting discourse upon some of the 
domestic manners and customs of the ancients, and 
their surprising resemblance in many points to those 

107 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

of tlie present day. Therefore it was, also, that she 
allowed Walter Lodloe to pass on his way without 
inviting him to join the party. 

When Lodloe and Beam reached Lethbury, the 
latter proposed that they should go and worry Cal- 
thea Bose ; and to his companion’s surprised exclama- 
tion at being asked to join in this diversion Lanigan 
answered that having been used to that sort of thing 
all his life, it seemed the most natural sport in which 
to indulge now that he found himself in Lethbury 
again. 

^Wery good,” said Lodloe, as they approached Miss 
Bose’s place of business, I shall not interfere with 
your native sports, but I do not care to join them. I 
shall continue my walk, and stop for you on my way 
back.” 

When Lanigan Beam entered Miss Bose’s shop she 
was sitting, as was her custom, by the back window, 
sewing. A neighbor had dropped in to chat with her 
a half-hour before, but had gone away very soon. The 
people of Lethbury had learned to understand when 
Calthea Bose did not wish to chat. 

Miss Calthea was not happy ; she was disappointed. 
Things had not gone as she hoped they would go, and 
as she had believed they would go when she accepted 
Mrs. Better’s invitation to tea. That meal had been 
a very pleasant one ; even the presence of Ida May- 
berry, who came to table with the family when the 
baby happened to be asleep, did not disturb her. On 
the contrary, it gratified her, for Lanigan Beam sat 
by that young person and was very attentive to her. 
She carefully watched Mr. Tippengray, and per- 
ceived that this attention, and the interest of the 

108 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

child’s nurse in Lanigan’s remarks, did not appear to 
give him the least uneasiness. Thereupon she began 
gradually, and she hoped imperceptibly, to resume 
her former method of intercourse with the Greek 
scholar, and to do so without any show of restoring 
him to favor. She did this so deftly that Mrs. Cristie 
was greatly interested in the performance, and an 
outside observer could have had no reason to suppose 
that there had been any break in the friendly inter- 
course between Miss Rose and Mr. Tippengray. 

But this satisfactory state of things soon came to 
an end. When the daylight began to wane, and Miss 
Calthea’s phaeton had been brought to the door, she 
went to it with her plans fully formed. As Mr. Tip- 
pengray assisted her into the vehicle, she intended to 
accept his proposition to drive her to Lethbury. She 
had slightly deferred her departure in order that the 
growing duskiness might give greater reason for the 
proposition. There would be a moon about nine 
o’clock, and his walk back would be pleasant. 

But when she reached the phaeton Mr. Tippengray 
was not there. Ida Mayberry, eager to submit to his 
critical eye two lines of Browning which she had put 
into a sort of Greek resembling the partly cremated 
corpse of a dead language, and who for the past ten 
minutes had been nervously waiting for Master Doug- 
las to close his eyes in sleep that she might rush down 
to Mr. Tippengray while he was yet strolling on the 
lawn by himself, had rushed down to him, and had 
made him forget everything else in the world in his 
instinctive effort to conceal from his pupil the shock 
given him by the sight of her lines. He had been 
waiting for Miss Calthea to come out, had been in- 

109 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

tending to hand her to her vehicle^ and had thought 
of proposing to accompany her to the village ; but he 
had not heard the phaeton roll to the door^ the leave- 
taking on the porch did not reach his ear, and his 
mind took no note whatever of the fact that Miss 
Rose was on the point of departure. 

As that lady, stepping out upon the piazza, swept 
her eyes over the scene and beheld the couple on the 
lawn, she gave a jerk to the glove she was drawing on 
her hand that tore in it a slit three inches long. She 
then turned her eyes upon her phaeton, declined the 
offer of Mr. Fetter to see her home, and, after a leave- 
taking which was a little more effusive than was 
usual with her, drove herself to Lethbury. If the 
sorrel horse had behaved badly in the early part of 
that afternoon, he was punished for it in the early 
part of that evening, for he completely broke all pre- 
vious records of time made between the Squirrel Inn 
and Lethbury. 

Thus the hopes of Miss Calthea had been doubly 
darkened ; the pariah with the brimstone blossoms 
had not only treacherously deserted Lanigan, but 
had made Mr. Tippengray treacherously desert her. 
She had been furiously angry 5 now she was low- 
spirited and cross. But one thing in the world could 
have then cheered her spirits, and that would have 
been the sight of her bitterest enemy and Lanigan 
Beam driving or walking together past her shop door ; 
but when Lanigan alone entered that shop door she 
was not cheered at all. 

Mr. Beam’s greeting was very free and unceremo- 
nious, and without being asked to do so he took a 
seat near the proiDrietress of the establishment. 

110 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

well/’ lie said, “this looks like old times. 
Why, Calthy, I don’t believe you have sold a thing 
since I was here last.” 

“ If you had any eyes in your head,” said Miss Cal- 
thea, severely, “ you would see that I have sold a great 
deal. Nearly everything, in fact.” 

“ That proves my point,” said Lanigan, “ for nearly 
everything was gone when I left.” 

“ And some of the things that are gone,” said she, 
“ you still owe me for.” 

“Well put, Calthy,” said Lanigan, laughing, “and 
after that, let’s drop the business. What’s new and 
what’s stale in Lethbury? ” 

“You are about the newest as well as the stalest 
thing here,” said she. 

Lanigan whistled. “ Calthy,” said he, “ would you 
mind my smoking a cigar here? There will be no 
customers coming in.” 

“You know very well you cannot smoke here,” she 
said. “ What is the matter with you? Has that pin- 
cushioned-faced child’s nurse driven you from the 
inn?” 

A pang went through Lanigan. Was Calthea jeal- 
ous of Miss Mayberry on his account? The thought 
frightened him. If he could have said anything 
which would have convinced Calthea that he was on 
the point of marrying Miss Mayberry, and that there- 
fore she might as well consider everything at an end 
between herself and him, he would have said it. But 
he merely replied ; 

“ She is a nice girl, and very much given to learn- 
ing.” 

Now Miss Calthea could restrain herself no longer. 

Ill 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

Learning ! she exclaimed. Stuff and decep- 
tion ! Impudent flirting is what she is fond of^ as 
long as she can get a good-for- naught like you^ or an 
old numskull like that Tippengray, to play her tricks 
on.’^ 

How Lanigan Beam braced himself for action. This 
sort of thing would not do j whatever she might say 
or think about the rest of the world, Calthea must 
not look with disfavor on the Greek scholar. 

Humskull ! said he. You’re off the track there, 
Cal thy. I never knew a man with a better skull than 
Mr. Tippengray j and as to his being old— there is a 
little gray in his hair, to be sure, but it’s my opinion 
that that comes more from study than from years.” 

‘‘ Honsense ! ” said Calthea. ‘‘ I don’t believe he cares 
a snap for study unless he can do it with some girl. 
I expect he has been at that all his life.” 

How Lanigan’s spirits rose ; he saw that it was not 
on his account that Calthea was jealous of Ida May- 
berry. His face put on an expression of serious inter- 
est, and he strove to speak impressively, but not so 
much so as to excite suspicion. 

Calthea,” said he, I think you are not treating 
Mr. Tippengray with your usual impartiality and 
fairness. From what I have seen of him, I am sure 
that the great object of his life is to teach, and when 
he gets a chance to do that he does it, and for the 
moment forgets everything else. You may be right 
in thinking that he prefers to teach young persons, 
and this is natural enough, for young people are much 
more likely than older ones to want to learn. How, 
to prove that he doesn’t care to teach young girls just 
because they are girls, I will tell you that I saw him, 

112 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

this very afternoon, hard at work teaching Mrs. Cristie 
and Ida Mayberry at the same time, and he looked 
twice as happy as when he was instructing only one 
of them. If there were enough people here so that 
he could make up a class, and could have a sort of 
summer school, I expect he would be the happiest 
man on earth. 

I am afraid that is Mr. Tippengray’s fault,” con- 
tinued Lanigan, folding his hands in his lap and gaz- 
ing reflectively at his outstretched legs. “ I am afraid 
that he gives too much of his mind to teaching, and 
neglects other things. He is carried away by his love 
of teaching, and when he finds one person or a dozen 
persons who want to learn, he neglects his best friends 
for that one person or those dozen persons. He 
oughtn’t to do it ; it isn’t right : but then, after all, 
no man is perfect, and I suppose the easiest way for 
us to get along is to stop looking for perfection.” 

Miss Calthea made no answer. She gazed out of 
the window as if she was mildly impressed with a 
solicitude for the welfare of her garden. There flitted 
into her mind a wavering, indeterminate sort of notion 
that perhaps Lanigan was a better fellow than he 
used to be, and that if she should succeed in her great 
purpose it might not be necessary that he should go 
away. But still,— and here prudence stepped in front 
of kindliness,— if that child’s nurse remained in the 
neighborhood, it would be safer if Lanigan kept up 
his interest in her ; if she ultimately carried him off, 
that was his affaii'. 

Leaning forward. Miss Calthea took a match from 
a box on a shelf, and handed it to Lanigan. 

“ You may as well smoke if you want to,” she said ; 

113 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

it’s not likely any one will be coming in, and I don’t 
object when the window is open.” 

Gratefully Lauigan lighted his cigar. 

“Calthy, this is truly like old times,” he said. 

And, to finish up with Tippengray, I’ll say that if 
Lodloe and I had not our mind so filled with our own 
businesses and projects, I’d get him to go in with me 
and help make up a class 5 but if I were to do that, 
perhaps people might say that all I wanted was to get 
in with the girls.” 

Here was a chance for Calthea to give her schemes 
a little push. 

‘‘ There is only one girl,” she said, “ who would be 
likely to take part in that sort of thing, and that is 
the child’s nurse at the Squirrel Inn ; but if she really 
is given to study, I suppose she might help you to 
improve your mind, and if you are what you used to 
be, it will stand a good deal of improving.” 

“ That’s so, Calthy,” said Lanigan, that’s so.” He 
was in high good humor at the turn the conversation 
had taken, but did his best to repress his inclination 
to show it. It might be well to go in for improve- 
ment. I’ll do that, anyway.” Lanigan blew oiit a 
long whiff of purple smoke. Calthy is a deep one,” 
he said to himself, “she wants me to draw off that 
girl from the old man. But all right, my lady ; you 
tackle him and I will tackle her. That suits me 
beautifully.” 

At this moment Lodloe entered the shop, and 
Miss Calthea Bose greeted him with much gracious- 
ness. 

“You must have taken a short walk,” said Lanigan. 
“ Don’t you want to wait until I finish my cigar? It’s 

114 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

SO miicli pleasanter to smoke here than in the open 
air. Perhaps Miss Calthea will let you join me.” 

Loclloe was perfectly willing to wait, but did not 
wish to smoke. He was interested in what he had 
heard of the stock of goods which was being sold off 
about as fast as a glacier moves, and was glad to have 
the opportunity to look about him. 

“Do you know, Calthy,” said Lanigan, “that you 
ought to sell Mr. Lodloe a bill of goods ? ” He said 
this partly because of his own love of teasing, but 
partly in earnest. To help Calthea sell olf her stock 
was an important feature of his project. 

“Mr. Lodloe shall not buy a thing,” said Calthea 
Rose. “ If he is ever in want of anything, and stops 
in here to see if I have it in stock, I shall be glad to 
sell it to him if it is here, for I am still in business ; 
but I know very well that Mr. Lodloe came in now as 
an acquaintance and not as a customer.” 

“Beg your pardons, both of you,” cried Lanigan, 
springing to his feet and throwing the end of his cigar 
out of the window. “ But I say. Cal thy, have you any 
of that fire -blaze calico with the rocket sparks that’s 
been on hand ever since I can remember ? ” 

“Your memory is pretty short sometimes,” said 
Calthea, “but I think I know the goods you mean, 
and I have seven yards of it left. Why do you ask 
about it? ” 

“ I want to see it,” said Lanigan. “ There it is on 
that shelf; it’s the same -sized parcel that it used to 
be. Would you mind handing it down to me? ” 

Lanigan unrolled the calico upon the counter, and 
gazed upon it with delight. “ Isn’t that glorious ! ” 
he cried to Lodloe. “ Isn’t that like a town on fire ! 

115 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

By George! Calthea, I will take tlie whole seven 
yards.’’ 

“ 'Now, Lanigan,” said Miss Calthea^ you know you 
haven’t the least use in the world for this calico.” 

I know nothing of the sort,” said Lanigan ; “I 
have a use for it. I want to make Mrs. Better a pres- 
ent, and I have been thinking of a fire-screen, and 
this is just the thing for it. I’ll build the frame my- 
self, and I’ll nail on this calico, front and back the 
same. It’ll want a piece of binding, or gimp, tacked 
around the edges. Have you any binding, or gimp. 
Cal thy, that would suit ? ” 

Miss Calthea laughed. “You’d better wait until 
you are ready for it,” she said, “ and then come and 
see.” 

“ Anyway, I want the calico,” said he. “ Please put 
it aside for me, and I’ll come in to-morrow and settle 
for it. And now, it seems to me that if we want any 
supper we had better be getting back to the inn.” 

“ It’s not a bad idea,” said Miss Calthea Bose, when 
she was left to herself. “ But it shall not be in a class. 
No, indeed ! I will take good care that it shall not be 
in a class.” 


116 


CHAPTER XVII 

BANANAS AND OATS 

When Walter Lodloe walked to Lethbury because be 
could not talk to Mrs. Cristie, it could not have been 
reasonably supposed that bis walk would bave bad 
more practical influence on bis feelings toward tbat 
lady tban a conversation witb ber would bave bad ; 
but sucb was tbe case. 

It would bave been very pleasant to talk, or walk, 
or cbat, or stroll, or play tennis, witb ber ,* but wben 
be reached tbe quiet little village, and wandered by 
bimself along tbe shaded streets, and looked into tbe 
pretty yards and gardens, on the profusion of old- 
fashioned flowers and tbe cool green grass under tbe 
trees, and here and there a stone well-curb witb a 
great sweep and an oaken bucket, and tbe air of quaint 
comfort which seemed to invade tbe interiors of those 
bouses tbat were partly opened to bis view, it struck 
him, as no idea of tbe sort bad ever struck him before, 
what a charming and all-satisfying thing it would be 
to marry Mrs. Cristie and live in Letbbury in one of 
these cool, quaint bouses witb tbe quiet and shade 
and tbe flowers— at least, for a few years until bis 
fortunes should improve. 

He bad a notion tbat Mrs. Cristie would like tbat 

117 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

sort of thing. She seemed so fond of country life. 
He would write^ and she would help him. He would 
work in the vegetable -garden, and she among the 
flowers. It would be Arcadia, and it would be cheap. 
Even with his present income every rural want could 
be satisfied. 

An infusion of feasibility— or what he looked upon 
as such — into the sentimentality of such a man as 
Walter Lodloe generally acts as a stiffener to his pur- 
poses. He was no more in love with Mrs. Cristie than 
he had been when he left the Squirrel Inn, but he 
now determined, if he saw any reason to suppose that 
she would accept them, to offer himself and a Leth- 
bury cottage to Mrs. Cristie. 

He had a good opportunity to think over this 
matter and come to decisions, for his companion 
walked half the way home without saying a word. 

Suddenly Lanigan spoke. 

Ho you know,’^ said he, “ that I have about made 
up my mind to marry the governess ? 

^^She isn’t a governess,” said Lodloe, “she is a 
nurse-maid.” 

“ I prefer to invest her with a higher grade,” said 
Lanigan, “and it is pretty much the same thing, 
after all. Anyway, I want to marry her, and I be- 
lieve I can do it if nobody steps in to interfere.” 

“Who do you suppose would do that!” asked 
Lodloe. 

“Well,” said Lanigan, “if the Lethbury people 
knew about it, and had a chance, every man jack of 
them, and every wmman jack, too, would interfere, 
and under ordinary circumstances Calthea Eose 
would take the lead ; but just now I think she intends 

118 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

to lend me a hand— not for my good, but for her own. 
If she does that, I am not afraid of all Lethbury and 
the Fetters besides. The only person I am afraid of 
is Mrs. Cristie.^’ 

Why do yon fear her? asked Lodloe. 

‘^Well,” said Lanigan, ^^when she was at the inn 
some years ago I was at my wildest, and her husband 
did not like me. He was in bad health, very touchy, 
and I suppose I gave him reason enough to consider 
me an extremely black sheep. Of course Mrs. Cristie 
naturally thought pretty much as he did, and from 
what you told me of the conference over my advent, 
I suppose her opinions haven’t changed much. She 
has treated me very well since I have been here, but 
I have no doubt that she would consider it her duty 
to let Miss Mayberry know just the sort of fellow she 
thinks I am.” 

“ Of eourse she would do that,” said Lodloe, and 
she ought to do it.” 

“Ho, sir,” said Lanigan, “ you are wrong, and I am 
going to prove it to you, and you shall see that I trust 
you as if I had known you years instead of days. I 
want you to understand that I am not the same sort 
of fellow that I used to be, not by any means. I told 
old Fetter that, so that he might have a little prac- 
tice in treating me with respect ; but I didn’t give him 
any reasons for it, because Calthea Kose would be sure 
to suspect that he knew something, and she’d worm it 
out of hiTH • but I don’t believe she could worm any- 
thing out of you. When I left this place, some eigh- 
teen months ago, I went down to Central America and 
bought a banana-farm, paying very little money 
down. In less than three months I sold my land to 

119 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

a company^ and made a very good tiling out of it. 
Then, thinking the company after a while might want 
more land, I bought another large tract, and before 
the end of the year I sold that to them, doubling my 
money. Then I left the tropics, fearing I might go 
too deep into that sort of speculation and lose every 
cent I had. I travelled around, and at last landed in 
Chicago } and here the money-making fever seized me 
again. It is a new thing to me, and wonderfully in- 
toxicating, I can tell you. I invested in oats, and 
before I knew it that blessed grain went up until, if 
its stalks had been as high as its price, it would have 
been over my head. I sold out, and then I said to 
myself : ^ Now, Lanigan, my boy, if you don’t want to 
be a beastly pauper for the rest of your life, you had 
better go home.’ Honestly, I was frightened, and it 
seemed to me I should never be safe until I was back 
in Lethbury. Look here,” he said, taking from a 
pocket a wallet filled with a mass of papers and a 
bank-book ; “ look at those certificates ; and here is 
my New York bank-book, so you can see that I am 
not telling you lies. 

“Now, you may say that the fact of my having 
money doesn’t prove that I am any better than I 
used to be ; but if you think that, you are wrong. 
There is no better way to reform a fellow than to 
give him something to take care of and take an in- 
terest in. That’s my case now, and all I’ve got I’ve 
given myself, which makes it better, of course. I’m 
not rich, but I’ve got enough to buy out any business 
in Lethbury. And to go into business and to live 
here are what will suit me better than anything else, 
and that’s not counting in Ida Mayberry at all. To 

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THE SQUIRREL INN 

live here with her would be better luck than the 
biggest rise in oats the world ever saw. Now you see 
where I stand. If Mrs. Cristie goes against me, she 
does a cruel thing to me, and to Ida Mayberry be- 
sides.” 

^^Why don’t you tell her the facts?” said Lodloe. 

That would be the straightforward and sensible 
thing to do.” 

‘^My dear boy,” said Lanigan, ‘‘I cannot put the 
facts into the hands of a woman. No matter how 
noble or honorable she may be, without the least 
intention on her x>art they would leak out. And if 
Calthea Rose should get hold of them I should be lost. 
She’d drop old Tippengray like a hot potato, and stick 
to me like one of those adhesive plasters that have 
holes in them. No, sir ! I don’t want Calthea Rose 
to think well of me. I want her to keep on consider- 
ing me as a good-for-nothing scapegrace. And, by 
George ! it’s easy enough to make her do that ; it’s 
all in her line of business. But I want other people 
to think well of me in a general way, and when Cal- 
thea and Tippengray have settled things between 
them, and are travelling on the Continent, which 
they certainly ought to do. I’ll start in business, and 
take my place as one of the leading citizens of Leth- 
bury ; as things look now, all will be plain sailing 
if Mrs. Cristie thinks well enough of me not to inter- 
fere between me and Ida Mayberry. Now, all I ask 
of you is to say a good word for me if you can get a 
chance.” 

After what you have told me,” said Lodloe, 
think I shall say it.” 

Good for you ! ” cried Lanigan. And if I go to 

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THE SQUIRREL INN 

Calthy and ask her to lend me the money to get a 
frame made for Mrs. Fetter’s fire-screen, don’t you be 
surprised. What I’m doing is just as much for her 
good as for mine. In this whole world there couldn’t 
be a better match for her than old Tippengray, and 
she knows it, and wants him.” 

If there was a society for the prevention of cruelty 
to Greek scholars, I don’t know but that it might 
interfere in this case,” said Lodloe. 


122 


CHAPTER XVIII 


SWEET PEAS 

Walter Lodloe was now as much flushed with the 
fever of love-making as Lanigan Beam had been flushed 
with the fever of money-making ; but he did not have 
the other man’s luck. Mrs. Cristie gave him few op- 
portunities of making her know him as he wished 
her to know him. He had sense enough to see that 
this was intentional, and that if he made any efforts 
to improve his opportunities he might drive her away. 

As he sat at his tower window, his fingers in his 
hair, and his mind trying to formulate the prudent 
but bold thing he ought to do, a voice came up from 
below. It was that of Ida Mayberry. 

Mr. Lodloe ! Mr. Lodloe ! ” she cried ; and when 
he had put his head out of the window she called to 
him : 

Don’t you want to come down and help us teach 
Mr. Tippengray to play tennis I He has taught us so 
much that we are going to teach him something.” 

Who are going to teach?” asked Lodloe. 

^^Mrs. Cristie and I,” said Ida. “Will you come?” 

Instantly consenting, Lodloe drew in his head, his 
love fever rising. 


123 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

The Greek scholar was one of the worst tennis- 
players in the world. He knew nothing of the ganiC;, 
and did not appear capable of learning it. And yet, 
when Lanigan Beam appeared, having just arrived on 
horseback from Romney, Mrs. Cristie would not allow 
the Greek scholar to give np his place to the younger 
man. She insisted on his finishing the game, and 
when it was over she declared the morning too warm 
to play any more. 

As she and Lodloe stood together for a moment, 
their rackets still in their hands, Mrs. Cristie smiled, 
but at the same time frowned. 

^^It is too provoking,^^ she said, wdsh Douglas 
would wake up and scream his very loudest. I w^as 
just on the point of asking Ida to go with me into the 
garden to pick sweet peas, when Mr. Beam hands her 
that horrible bunch of wild flowers, crammed full of 
botany. I’ve no doubt. And now just look at them ! 
Before one could say a word, there they are on that 
bench, heads together, and iDulling the weeds to 
pieces. Think of it ! Studying botany with Mm, and 
Mr. Ti]3peugray on the same lawn with her ! ” 

‘^Oh, he’s too hot to teach anything,” said Lodloe. 

You don’t seem to approve of Mr. Beam’s attentions 
to that young woman.” 

^‘I do not,” said she. ‘^You know what he is as 
well as I do.” 

Better,” said Lodloe. For a moment he paused, 
and then continued : “ Mrs. Cristie, I wish you would 
let me go into the garden with you to pick sweet peas 
and to talk about Mr. Beam.” 

^‘Mr. Beam?” she repeated. 

Yes,” said Lodloe, wish very much to speak to 

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THE SOUIRREL INN 

you in regard to him, and I cannot do it here, where 
we may be interrupted at any moment.’^ 

As a young and pretty woman who knew her attrac- 
tions, and who had made resolutions in regard to the 
preponderance of social intercourse in a particular 
direction, Mrs. Cristie hesitated before answering. 
But as a matron who should know all about a young 
man who was paying very special attention to a 
younger woman in her charge, she accepted the in- 
vitation, and went into the garden with Lodloe. 

The sweet-pea blossoms crowded the tall vines 
which lined one side of a path, and as she i)icked 
them he talked to her. 

He began by saying that he had noticed, and he 
had no doubt that she had noticed, that in all the 
plain talk they had heard about Mr. Beam there had 
been nothing said against his moral character except 
that he did not pay his debts nor keep his promises. 
To this Mrs. Cristie assented, but said that she thought 
these were very bad things. Lodloe agreed to this, 
but said he thought that when a young man of whom 
even professional slanderers did not say that he was 
cruel, or that he gambled, or drank, or was addicted 
to low comi^any and pursuits, had determined to re- 
form his careless and thoughtless life, he ought to be 
encouraged and helped in every possible way. And 
then, when she asked him what reason he had to sup- 
pose that Mr. Beam had determined to reform, he 
straightway told her everything about Lanigan, Chi- 
cago oats and all, adding that the young man did not 
vfish him to say anything about this matter, but he 
had taken it upon himself to do so because Mrs. Cristie 
ought to know it, and because he was sure that she 

12.5 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

would not mention it to any one. When Mrs. Cristie 
exclaimed at this, and said that she thought that the 
sooner everybody knew it the better, Lodloe told her 
of the state of affairs between Calthea Rose and Lani- 
gan Beam, and why the latter did not wish his reform 
to be known at present. 

Mrs. Cristie dropped upon the ground every sweet- 
pea blossom she had gathered. 

“I cannot imagine,’’ she said, ^‘how you can take 
the part of a man who would deliberately attempt to 
lower himself in the eyes of one woman in order that 
he might have a better chance to win another woman.” 

“Mrs. Cristie,” said Lodloe, “I am a young man, 
and I have lived much among young men. I have 
seen many of them in dangerous and troubled waters, 
floating down to ruin and destruction, and now and 
then I have seen one who had turned and was trying 
to strike out for the shore. In every case of this kind 
I have tried to give the poor fellow a hand and help 
him get his feet on firm ground. Sometimes he 
jumped in again, and sometimes he didn’t, but all 
that was not my affair ; I was bound to help him 
when I saw him facing the right way ; and that is just 
the way I feel about young Beam. I do not approve 
of all his methods, but if he wants moral support I say 
he ought to have it.” 

Mrs. Cristie looked at the pink, blue, and purple 
blossoms on the ground. “His sentiments are good 
and generous ones,” she thought, “and I shall not 
say one word against them ; but Ida Mayberry shall 
not marry that exceedingly slippery young man, and 
the good Mr. Tippengray shall not be caught by Cal- 
thea Rose.” She came to this resolution with much 


126 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

firmness of purpose ; but as she was not prepared to 
say anything on the subject just then, she looked up 
very sweetly at Lodloe, and said : 

Suppose we drop Mr. Beam.’’ 

He looked for an instant into her eyes. 

Gladly,” he exclaimed, with an impulse like a 
lightning-flash, ‘^and speak of Walter Lodloe.” 

^‘Of you?” she said. 

Yes, of me,” he replied 5 of myself— of a man who 
has no scheme, no plan, no concealments, and who 
only wishes you to know that he loves you with all 
his heart.” 

She looked at him steadfastly for a moment. “ Was 
it for this,” she said, that you asked me to come with 
you and pick sweet-pea blossoms % ” 

Not at all,” he exclaimed. I meant no more than 
I said, and thought of no more. But the flowers we 
came to gather you have dropped upon the ground.” 

They can easily be picked up again,” she said. 

“Not at all,” he cried, and, stepping forward, put 
his foot upon the fragrant blossoms. Then, with a few 
rapid dashes, he gathered a bunch of sweet peas and 
extended them toward Mrs. Cristie. 

“Will you not take these instead?” he said. 

She put her hands behind her back. 

“ I do not mean,” he said, speaking low but strongly, 
“ that in accepting them you accejit me. I only want 
to know that you will talk to me of what I said, or, at 
any rate, think of it.” 

But still she kept her hands behind her back. In 
her heart she knew that she wanted those flowers, 
but the knowledge had come so suddenly, so un- 
expectedly, and so unreasonably, that she did not 

127 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

even look at them, and clasjied her fingers together 
more tightly. 

“Some one is coming/’ said Lodloe. “Tell me 
quickly, must these flowers be dropped?” 

Steps could plainly be heard not far away. Mrs. 
Cristie looked up. 

“ I will take one,” she said, “ the very smallest.” 

He thrust the bunch of flowers toward her, and she 
hastily drew from it one which happened to be the 
largest of them all. 

The person who now appeared in the garden walk 
was Calthea Rose. She experienced no emotions but 
those of mild amusement at seeing these two together. 
At present she did not care very much about either 
of them, although, when she had heard of the ex- 
pected coming of the young widow, she had been 
afraid of her, and was prepared to dislike her. But 
finding her, as she supposed, already provided with a 
lover, Calthea was quite satisfied with Mrs. Cristie. 
She liked Lodloe on general principles, because he 
was a man. Her greeting was very pleasant. It 
often happened that the people whom Calthea Rose 
neither liked nor disliked were those who found her 
the most pleasant. 

She was inclined to walk on and leave them among 
the sweet-pea blossoms, but Mrs. Cristie would not 
allow this. She joined Calthea, and the three went on 
together. When they stepped upon the open lawn, 
Calthea gave a quick glance around, and the result 
was very satisfactory. Ida Mayberry and Lanigan 
were still sitting together under a tree, and she saw 
Mr. Tippengray talking to Mrs. Better not far from 
the summer-house. Ho thing could be better arranged. 

128 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

Lanigan was on the right road, and it would he quite 
as natural for her immediately to join Mrs. Fetter as 
it would he easy to get rid of her. 

The party separated, Lodloe going to his room and 
Calthea walking toward the summer-house. She had 
come that day to the Squirrel Inn with a purpose : she 
was going to he taught hy Mr. Tippengray. In this 
world we must adapt ourselves to circumstances, and 
she was going to adapt herself to the Greek scholar’s 
hohhy. She was a sensible woman, and did not for a 
moment purpose to ask him to teach her the dead 
languages, philosophy, or science, things in which he 
knew she took no interest. Indeed, she would not 
ask him to teach her anything, hut she was going to 
give him the opportunity to do so, and she was quite 
sure that that would he sufficient for her purpose. 

She intended to make herself an audience of one, 
and to listen, in a way she knew would x)lease him, to 
the recital of his travels and experiences. Of these he 
had often essayed to talk to her, hut she had not en- 
couraged him. She never liked to talk upon subjects 
of which other people knew more than she did, and 
she always endeavored to bring the conversation into 
a channel where she could take an equal part. If she 
could lead, so much the better. But now she was 
going to let Mr. Tippengray talk to her just as much 
as he pleased, and tell her all he wanted to tell her. 
She now knew him better than she had done before, 
and she had strong hopes that by this new string she 
would be able to lead him from the Squirrel Inn to 
Lethbury whenever she chose. 

Mrs. Fetter had long been accustomed to look upon 
Calthea Rose as a person whose anger would blaze up 

129 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

very suddenly^ but would go out quite as promptly, 
— which was true, when Miss Calthea chose to put it 
out, — but she was a little surprised that Calthea, after 
so recently going away in a huff, should treat Mr. 
Tippengray with such easy friendliness. If the Greek 
scholar himself felt surprised, he did not show it, for 
he was always ready to meet a cordial overture. 

Miss Calthea had just accepted an invitation to be 
seated in the shade,— which she knew would very 
soon be followed by Mrs. Fetter’s going into the 
house, for that good woman was seldom content to sit 
long out of doors,— when uj) stepped Ida Mayberry. 

^^Mr. Tippengray,” said she, in the clear, distinct 
way in which she always spoke, ^^here is something 
which I have been trying to explain to Mr. Beam, 
but I am afraid I haven’t a quite correct idea about 
it myself. Will you please read it, and tell me how 
it strikes you ? ” 

This was too much for the patience of Calthea Bose. 
Her resolutions of geniality and good nature could 
not stand for a moment against such an interruption 
at such a time. She turned sharply upon the nurse- 
maid, and, without attempting to disguise her feelings, 
said it seemed to her that a person so anxious to learn 
would be much better emx)loyed in attending to her 
business and in trying to learn something about babies 
than in interrupting conversation in this impertinent 
way. 

“ Learn something about babies ! ” exclaimed Miss 
Mayberry. ‘^Nobody knows more about babies than 
I do— I have dissected one.” 

At this Mrs. Fetter gave a cry of horror, and Miss 
Calthea stepped back, speechless with amazement. 

130 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

•t 

As for the Greek scholar, he suddenly retired to a 
little distance and leaned over a bench, his back to 
the company. He was greatly agitated. 

Without further remark. Miss Mayberry closed her 
book, and, with dignity, walked back to Lanigan 
Beam. 


131 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE AROUSED ROSE 

The soul of Miss Calthea Rose was now filled with one 
burning purpose^ • and that was to banish from the 
Squirrel Inn that obtrusive and utterly obnoxious col- 
legiate nurse-maid who had so shamelessly admitted 
a desire for surgical research in connection with the 
care of an infant. It was of no use for Miss Calthea 
to think at this moment of her plans in regard to Mr. 
Tippengray, nor, indeed, of anything but this one ab- 
sorbing object. Until she had rid herself of Ida May- 
berry she could expect to do nothing that she wished 
*to do. Leaving Mr. Tippengray to the quiet enjoy- 
ment of his agitations. Miss Calthea and Mrs. Fetter 
immediately set off to find Mrs. Cristie. 

“ She must instantly know,’’ said the former, what 
sort of a serpent she has in her service. If I were in 
her place I would never let that creature touch my 
‘baby again.” 

Touch the baby ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Petter. “ I 
wouldn’t let her touch me. When a person with 
such a disposition begins on infants there is no know- 
ing where she will stop. Of course I don’t mean that 
she is dangerous to human life, but it seems to me 
horrible to have any one about us who would be look- 

132 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

ing at our muscles, and thinking about our bones, and 
wondering if they worked together properly, and if 
they would come apart easily. Ugh ! It’s like hav- 
ing a bat in the room.” 

Ml'S. Cristie was not in the mood to give proper 
attention to the alarming facts which were laid before 
her by the two women, who found her sitting by the 
window in her room. It had been so short a time 
since she had come from the garden, and the blossom 
of the sweet pea, which she still held in her hand, 
had been so recently picked from its vine, that it was 
not easy for her to fix her mind upon the disquali- 
fications of nurse-maids. Even the tale that was told 
her, intensified by the bitter feeling of Miss Rose, and 
embellished by the imagination of Mrs. Fetter, did 
not have the effect upon her that was expected by 
the narrators. She herself had been a student of anat- 
omy, and was still fond of it, and if she had been able 
properly to consider the subject at that moment, she 
might not have considered it a bad thing for Ida May- 
berry to have the experience of which she had boasted. 

But the young widow did not wish at that moment 
to think of her nurse-maid or even of her baby, and 
certainly not to give her attention to the tales of her 
landlady and the spinster from Lethbury. 

I must admit,” she said, “ that I cannot see that 
what you tell me is so very, very dreadful, but I will 
speak to Ida about it. I think she is apt to talk very 
forcibly, and perhaps imprudently, and does not always 
make herself understood.” 

This was said with an air of abstraction and want 
of interest which greatly irritated Miss Calthea. She 
had not even been thanked for what she had done. 

133 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

Mrs. Cristie had been very civil, and was evidently 
trying to be more so j but this was not enough for Miss 
Calthea. 

‘‘We considered it our duty,’’ she said, with a de- 
cided rigidity of countenance, “to tell you what we 
know of that girl, and now we leave the matter with 
you ; ” which was a falsehood, if Miss Calthea was 
capable of telling one. 

Then, with much dignity, she moved toward the 
door, and Mrs. Fetter prepared to follow ; but before 
going she turned with moist eyes toward Mrs. Cristie, 
and said : 

“ Indeed, indeed, you ought to be very careful ; no 
matter how you look at it, she is not fit for a nurse, 
as everybody can see. Make up your mind to send 
her away, and I’ll go myself and get you a good one.” 

Glancing out of the door to see that the Lethbury 
lady was out of hearing, Mrs. Cristie said : 

“You are very good, Mrs. Fetter, and I know you 
wish me well j but tell me one thing : wasn’t it Miss 
Rose who proposed that you should come to me with 
this story about Ida 1 ” 

“ Of course I should have told you myself,” said Mrs. 
Fetter, “though I might have taken my time about 
it ; but Calthea did not want to lose a minute, and 
said we must go right off and look for you. She was 
as mad as hops anyway, for we were talking to Mr. 
Tippengray at the time, and Calthea does hate to be 
interrupted when she is talking to him. But don’t 
you worry yourself any more than you ean help, and 
remember my promise. I’ll stick to it, you may count 
on that.” 

When Mrs. Cristie had been left to herself, she gave 

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enough time to the consideration of what had been told 
her to come to the following conclusion : She shall 
not have him ; I have made up my mind to that. In- 
terrupted by Ida ! Of course that is at the bottom of 
it.’’ And having settled this matter, she relapsed into 
her former mood, and fell to thinking what she should 
do about the sweet-pea blossom. 

She thought until the supper-bell rang, and then 
she rose, and with a pretty smile and flush upon her 
face, which showed that her thoughts had not in the 
least worried her, she put the sweet-pea blossom into 
a little jar which she had brought from Florence, and 
which was just big enough for one small flower. 

At supper Walter Lodloe was very quiet and very 
polite, and Mrs. Cristie, who was opposite to him, 
though not at all quiet, was also very polite, but be- 
stowed her attention almost entirely upon Mr. Tip- 
pengray, who sat beside her. The Greek scholar liked 
this, and his conversation sparkled. 

Miss Calthea Eose, who had accepted Mrs. Fetter’s 
invitation to spend the night, — for if ever she was 
going to do anything at the Squirrel Inn, this was the 
time to do it,— did not like Mrs. Cristie’s politeness, 
and her conversation did not sparkle. In fact, she 
was quieter than Mr. Lodloe, and paid little heed to 
the chatter of her neighbor, Lanigan Beam. This 
young man was dissatisfled. There was a place at the 
table that was sometimes fllled and sometimes not 
filled. At present it was empty. 

I cannot see,” said he, speaking to the company in 
general, ‘^why babies are not brought to the table. 
I think they ought to be taught from the very begin- 
ning how to behave themselves at meals.” 


135 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

Mr. Fetter fixed his eyes upon him, and, speaking 
through the young man, also addressed the eompany. 

I’m not altogether in favor of having small chil- 
dren at the table,” said he. Their food is different 
from ours, and their ways are often unpleasant j but I 
do think — ” 

“ hTo, you don’t,” interrupted Mrs. Fetter, from the 
other end of the table— ‘‘you don’t think anything of 
the kind. That has all been fixed and settled, and 
there’s no use in bringing it up again.” 

Mr. Fetter looked at his wife with a little flash in 
his eye, but he spoke quietly. 

“ There are some things,” he said, “ that can be un- 
fixed and unsettled.” 

Mrs. Cristie hastened to stop this discussion. 

“ As I own the only baby in the house,” she said, 
with a smile, “ I may as well say that it is not coming 
to the table, either by itself or in any other way.” 

A thought now tickled Mr. Tipi)engray. Without 
any adequate reason whatever, there came before him 
the vision of an opossum which he once had seen 
served at a Virginia dinner- table, plump and white, 
upon a china dish. And he felt almost irresistibly 
imiDclled to lean forward and ask Mr. Lodloe if he 
had ever read any of the works of Mr. Jonathan 
Carver, that noted American traveller of the last 
century ; but he knew it wouldn’t do, and he re- 
strained himself. If he had thought Lodloe would 
understand him he would have made his observation 
in Greek, but even that would have been impolite to 
the rest of the company. So he kept his joke to him- 
self, and, for fear that any one should perceive his 
amusement, he asked Mrs. Fetter if she had . ever 

136 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

noticed how much finer was the fur of a cat which 
slept out of doors than that of one which had been in 
the house. She had noticed it, but thought that the 
cat would prefer a snug rug by the fire to fine fur. 

Calthea Kose said little and thought much. It was 
necessary that she should take in every possible point 
in the situation, and she was doing it. She did not 
like Mrs. Cristie’s attention to Mr. Tippengray, be- 
cause it gave him pleasure, and she did not wish that 
other women should give him pleasure ; but she was 
not jealous, for that would have been absurd in this 
ease. 

But the apparent state of feeling at the table had 
given her an idea. She was thinking very bitterly 
of Mrs. Cristie, and would gladly do anything which 
would cause that lady discomfort. There seemed to 
be something wrong between her and Mr. Lodloe ; 
otherwise the two lovers would be talking to each 
other, as was their custom. Perhaps she might find 
an opportunity to do something here. If, for instance, 
she could get the piqued gentleman to flirt a little 
with her,— and she had no doubt of her abilities in 
this line, —it might eause Mrs. Cristie uneasiness. And 
here her scheme widened and opened before her. If 
in any way she could make life at the Squirrel Inn 
distasteful to Mrs. Cristie, that lady might go away. 
And in this case the whole problem that engrossed her 
would be solved, for of eourse the maid would go with 
the mistress. 

Calthea’s eyes brightened, and with a smile she half 
listened to something Lanigan Beam was saying to 
her. 

“Yes,’^ she thought, ‘Hhat would settle the whole 

137 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

business. The widow is the person I ought to drive 
away ; then they would all go, and leave him to me, as 
I had him before.’^ 

And now she listened a little, and talked a little, 
but still kept on thinking. It was really a very good 
thing that her feeling toward Mrs. Cristie had so 
suddenly ehanged, otherwise she might never have 
thought of this admirable scheme. 


138 


CHAPTER XX 

AN INGENUOUS MAID 

Mes. Cristie was unusually prompt that evening in 
going to the relief of Ida Mayberry, but before she 
allowed that young woman to go down to her supper 
she put a question to her. 

‘AVhat do you mean, Ida,’.’ she said, ^^by talking 
about dissecting babies? Whatever you may have 
done in that line, I do not think it is very nice to 
bring it forward when you have charge of a child.” 

‘^Of course it wasn’t nice,” replied Ida, ^^and I 
should never have thought of speaking of it if it had 
not been for that thing from Lethbury. She makes 
me so angry that I don’t know what I say. You 
ought to hear Lanigan Beam talk about her: He has 
confided to me, although I am not sure that he should 
have done it.” 

‘‘‘‘ Of course not,” said Mrs. Cristie, very promptly ; 
he should not have confided anything to you.” 

^^Well,” continued Ida, ‘^he told me, but said he 
would not breathe it to any one else, that the great 
object of his life at present was to rid this neighbor- 
hood of Calthea Rose. He says she has been a plague 
to this community ever since he has known her. She 
is always ready to make mischief, and nobody can tell 

139 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

when or liow she is going to do it. As for himself, he 
vows she has made it imx)Ossit)le for him to live here j 
and as he wishes to live here, he wants her to go.’’ 

And how does he propose to make her go ? ” asked 
Mrs. Cristie. 

He wants her to marry Mr. Tippengray, which she 
is very willing to do, and then he is quite sure that 
they will go away and travel, and stay abroad for a 
long time. He knows that this will be the very thing 
that she would want to do.” 

And I suppose,” said Mrs. Cristie, that Mr. Beam 
told you all this in order that you might be induced 
to help on the match between Mr. Tippengray and 
Miss Bose.” 

‘‘That was exactly his object,” said Ida; “he said 
that everybody ought to help in this good work.” 

“ And then, I suppose, he would like to marry you,” 
remarked Mrs. Cristie. 

“He hasn’t said so yet,” replied Miss Mayberry, 
“ but I think he would like to do it.” 

Mrs. Cristie brought down her little fist upon the 
table, regardless of her slumbering child. 

“ That man is utterly without a conscience ! ” she ex- 
claimed. “ If he hadn’t kept on engaging himself over 
and over again to Calthea Bose, she might have mar- 
ried somebody else, and gone away long ago. He has 
no one but himself to blame that she is still here to 
worry him and other people. And as to his wishing 
to sacrifice Mr. Tippengray to his ease and comfort, I 
think it is the most shameful thing I ever heard of ! 
I hope, Ida, that you did not encourage him in this 
iniquitous scheme.” 

Ida laughed, but quietly— remembering the baby. 

140 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

“ Not mucli/^ slie said. In fact, I have determined, 
if I can, to rescue Mr. Tippengray from that clutching 
old thing.^^ 

asked Mrs. Cristie, quickly. 

By marrying him myself,’^ said the nurse-maid. 

“ Ida Mayberry ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Cristie. 

^‘Yes,’’ said the other; “I have been considering 
the matter a good deal, and I think it can be done. 
He is much older than I am, but that isn’t of great 
importance when people suit in other ways. Of course 
I would not wish to marry a very old man, even if he 
were suitable, for I should have to look forward to a 
married life so short that it would not pay ; but Mr. 
Tippengray was not born so dreadfully far back, and 
he is one of those men who keep young for a long 
time. I think he likes me, and I am sure I can 
easily make him like me more, if I choose. There 
is nobody here that I need be afraid of, excepting 
yon, perhaps.” 

Mrs. Cristie looked at her in amazement. 

“ Me ! ” she exclaimed. 

Yes,” said Ida, “and this is the way of it. For a 
time I rather liked Lanigan Beam, for he’s young and 
good-looking, and particularly because he seems very 
much in love with me ; but although he pretends to 
be anxious to study, I know he is not very deep, and 
will probably soon tire of that. So when my sym- 
pathy for Mr. Tippengray was fairly aroused,— and it 
has been growing for some time, — it was easy enough 
to drop Lanigan ; but before I allowed myself to be- 
come too much interested in Mr. Tippengray I had to 
consider all sides of the case. You seem to like Mr. 
Tippengray very much, and of course if you really 

141 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

make up your mind to prefer Mm to anybody else, 
one great object would be gained, just tbe same as if 
I married him, and he would be saved from the hole 
those two are digging for him.’’ 

And in that case,” said Mrs. Cristie, repressing a 
strong disposition to laugh, ^^what would you do? 
Perhaps you would be content to take anything that 
might be left.” 

I suppose you mean Mr. Lodloe,” said Ida. 'Well, 
to speak plainly, I have never thought that I had a 
right to take him into consideration, but if the field 
were entirely ojien, I would not hesitate a moment in 
preferring him to either of the others.” 

Now Mrs. Cristie laughed outright. 

I could never have imagined,” she said, that a ■ 
young girl such as you are could have such practical 
and business-like views about matrimony.” 

‘^Well,” said the nurse-maid, don’t see anything 
out of the way in my views. I want to bring an intel- 
ligent judgment to bear upon everything I do, and if 
the higher education is of any good at all, it ought to 
help us to regulate our affections.” 

“I have nothing to say on the subject,” said Mrs. 
Cristie, “ except that they did not pretend to teach us 
that at Vassar. I don’t see how you can bring your- 
self to such calculations. But one part of your scheme 
I approve of highly : positively you ought to drop 
Lanigan Beam. As to marrying Mr. Tippengray, that 
is your affair, and his affair ; and you may be sure I 
shall not interfere in any way.” 

Ida looked at her and smiled. 

‘‘I wasn’t very much afraid of that,” she said, 

‘‘ though of course I thought I ought to steer clear of 

142 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

even a possible interference ; but now I can go ahead 
with a clear conscience.” 

Mrs. Gristle felt drawn toward this ingenuous maid. 
Ida/’ she said, taking her by the hand, as you 
have been so confiding toward me, I will say to you 
that since you have concluded to drop Mr. Beam your 
choice is decidedly restricted.” 

‘‘ I am glad to hear it,” said the other, warmly, he 
is a good man, and I think he has brains that you can 
count on. Is it all settled ? ” 

Oh, no, no ! ” said Mrs. Gristle. “ And mind, Ida, 
don’t you say a word of this to a living soul.” 

Oh, you needn’t be afraid of that,” said Miss May- 
berry, I never betray confidences.” 

^‘I am afraid,” said Mrs. Gristle to herself, as she 
stood alone by her baby’s bedside, that I went a little 
too far. It isn’t settled yet, and it would have been 
better not to say anything about it. However ’’—and 
then her thoughts went wandering. She would go 
down-stairs and out of doors as soon as she had satis- 
fied herself that Douglas could be prudently left to 
his slumbers. 


143 


CHAPTER XXI 


TWISTED TRYSTS 

Mrs. Cristie found the lower floor of the Sqnirrel 
Inn quite deserted. She stopped before a window in 
a Xorman tower and looked out. Twilight was fading, 
but there was a young moon in the sky. By stepping 
a little to one side she could see the moon, with the 
evening star twinkling not far away from it. She did 
not go out, however, but slowly wandered into a long 
room under the roof of a Swiss chalet. Here she went 
out on a queer little balcony, and sat down j but her 
view was cut off by an outjutting upper story of the 
old English type, with rows of small-paned windows, 
and she soon came in from the balcony. There was a 
light burning in the tap-room, and as she passed its 
open door she stopped for a moment and gazed re- 
flectively at the row of dilapidated stuffed squirrels, 
eath of which had once stood guard upon the guide- 
post to the inn. But she took no note of the squirrels, 
nor of anything else in the quiet room, but as she 
stood, and instinctively put her finger to her forehead, 
a resolution came. 

I will be sensible, like Ida,’^ she thought. I will 
go out and let things happen as they may.’^ 

144 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

She went out into the young moonlight, and, glan- 
cing across the lawn, saw, near the edge of the bluff 
that commanded the western view, two persons sitting 
upon a bench. Their backs were toward her, but 
one of them she knew to be Calthea Eose. 

hope that is not poor Mr. Tippengray,’^ said 
Mrs. Cristie to herself. “K she has secured him 
already, and taken him out there, I am afraid that 
even Ida will not be able to get him away from her. 
Ida must still be at her supper. I should not have 
detained her so long.^^ 

But Ida was not at her supper. As she turned 
toward the end of the lawn, Mrs. Cristie saw her 
nurse-maid slowly strolling over the grass, a man on 
each side of her. They were plainly to be seen, and 
one man was Mr. Tippengray and the other Lanigan 
Beam. The three were engaged in earnest conversa- 
tion. Mrs. Cristie smiled. 

^^I need not have feared for Ida,’^ she thought, 

she must have made a bold stroke to leave her rival 
in the lurch in that way, but I suppose in order to 
get one man she has to take both. It is a little hard 
on Miss Calthea;’^ and with an amused glance to- 
ward the couple on the bluff she moved toward the 
gardens. Her mind was in a half-timorous and unde- 
termined state, in which she would have been glad to 
wander about by herself and to meet nobody, or, if it 
so should happen, glad to meet somebody ; and wist- 
fully, but yet timidly, she wondered which it would 
be. All at once she heard a step behind her. In 
spite of herself, she started and flushed, and, turning, 
saw Mr. Better. The sight of this worthy gentleman 
was a shock to her. She had been sure he was sitting 

145 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

with Calthea Kose on the bluff. If it was not he, 
who was it? 

“ I am glad to see you, Mrs. Cristie,’’ said the land- 
lord of the inn, ‘^for I want to speak with you. My 
mind is disturbed, and it is on account of your assist- 
ant, Miss Mayberry. She has been talked about in a 
way that I do not at all like. I may even say that 
my wife has been urging me to use my influence with 
you to get her dismissed. I assured Mrs. Fetter, 
however, that I should use that influence, if it exists, 
in exactly the opposite direction. Shall we walk on 
together, Mrs. Cristie, while I speak further on the 
subject? I have a high opinion of Miss Mayberry. 
I like her because she is what I term blooded. hToth- 
ing pleases me so much as blooded service, and, I 
may add, blooded associations and possessions. So 
far as I am able to have it so, my horses, my cattle, 
and all my live stock are blooded. I consider my 
house, this inn, to be a blooded house. It can trace 
its various lines of architectural ancestry to honorable 
origins. The company at my house, with the excep- 
tion of Lanigan Beam, — who, however, is not a full 
guest, but rather a limited inmate, ascending by a 
ladder to his dormitory,— are, if you will excuse me 
for saying so, blooded. And that one of these guests 
should avail herself of blooded service is to me a great 
gratiflcation, of which I hope I shall not be deprived. 
To see a vulgar domestic in Miss Mayberry’s place 
would wound and pain me, and I may say, Mrs. Cristie, 
that I have been able to see no reason whatever for 
such substitution.” 

Mrs. Cristie had listened without a word, but as she 
listened she had been asking herself who that could 

146 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

r' 

be with Calthea Eose. If it was not Walter Lodloe, 
who was it? And if it were he, why was he there? 
And if he were there, why did he stay there? Of 
course she was neither jealous, nor worried, nor trou- 
bled by such a thing, but the situation was certainly 
odd. She had come out expecting something, she did 
not know exactly what ; it might not have been a walk 
among the sweet-pea blossoms, but she was very cer- 
tain it was not a conversation with Mr. Fetter, while 
Walter Lodloe sat over there in the moonlight with 
Calthea Eose. 

“You need not have given yourself any anxiety,’’ 
she said to her companion, “ for I have not the slight- 
est idea of discharging Ida. She suits me admirably, 
and what they say about her is all nonsense ; of course 
I do not mean any disrespect to Mrs. Fetter.” 

Mr. Fetter deprecatingly waved his hand. 

“ I understand perfectly your reference to my wife,” 
he said. “ Her mind, I think, has been acted upon by 
others. Allow me to say, madam, that your words 
have encouraged and delighted me. I feel we are 
moving in the right direction. I breathe better.” 

“How is it possible,” thought Mrs. Cristie, during 
the delivery of this speech, “ that he can sit there, 
and sit, and sit, and sit, when he knows at this hour I 
am always somewhere about the house or grounds, and 
never in my room? Well, if he likes to sit there, let 
him sitj” and with this she looked up with some 
vivacity into the face of her landlord and asked him 
if even his pigeons and his chickens were blooded, 
and if the pigs were also of good descent. As she 
spoke she slightly accelerated her pace. 

Mr. Fetter was very willing to walk faster, and to 

147 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

talk about all that appertained to his beloved Squirrel 
Inn, and so they walked and talked until they reaehed 
the garden and disappeared from view behind the tall 
shrubbery that bordered the central path. 

Mrs. Fetter sat on a little Dutch porch, looking out 
on the lawn, and her mind was troubled. She wished 
to talk to Mr. Fetter, and here he was strolling about 
in the moonlight with that young widow. Of course 
there was nothing in it, and it was perfectly proper 
for him to be polite to his guests ; but there were lines 
in politeness as well as in other things, and they 
ought to be drawn before people went off walking by 
themselves in the garden at an hour when most farm- 
ers were thinking about going to bed. The good lady 
sat very uneasily on her little bench. The night air 
felt damp to her and disagreeable ; she was sure there 
were spiders and other things running about the porch 
floor, and there were no rounds to the bench on which 
she could put her feet. But she could not bear to go 
in, for she had not the least idea in the world where 
they had gone to. Ferhaps they might walk all the 
way to Lethbury, for all she knew. At this moment 
a man came up to the porch. It was Lanigan Beam, 
and his soul was troubled. The skilful Miss May- 
berry had so managed the conversation in which she 
and the two gentlemen were engaged that its subject- 
matter became deeper and deeper in its character, 
until poor Lanigan found that it was getting very 
much too deep for him. As long as he could manage 
to keep his head above water he stood bravely, but 
when he was obliged to raise himself on the tips of 
his toes, and even then found the discourse rising 
above his chin, obliging him to shut his mouth and to 

148 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

blink bis eyes, he thought it wise to strike out for 
shore before he made a pitiful show of his lack of 
mental stature. 

And in a very bad humor Lanigan walked rapidly 
to the house, where he was much surprised to see Mrs. 
Petter on the little Dutch porch. 

“Why, madam,’^ he exclaimed, “I thought you 
never sat out after nightfall.’’ 

“ As a rule, I don’t,” the good lady answered, “ and 
I oughtn’t to now ; but the fact is—” She hesitated, 
but it was not necessary to finish the sentence. Mr. 
Petter and Mrs. Cristie emerged from the garden and 
stood together just outside its gate. He was explain- 
ing to her the origin of some of the peculiar features 
of the Squirrel Inn. 

When the eyes of Mr. Beam fell upon these two, 
who stood plainly visible in the moonlight, while he 
and Mrs. Petter were in shadow, his trouble was dis- 
sipated by a mischievous hilarity. 

“ Well, well, well ! ” said he, “ she is a woman.” 

“Of course she is,” said Mrs. Petter, “and what of 
that, I’d like to know 1 ” 

“How that I think of it,” said Lanigan, with a 
finger on the side of his nose, “ I remember that she 
and her young man didn’t have much to say to each 
other at supper. Quarrelled, perhaps. And she is 
comforting herself with a little fiirt with Mr. Petter.” 

“ Lanigan Beam, you ought to be ashamed of your- 
self !” cried the good lady. “You know Mr. Petter 
never flirts.” 

“Well, perhaps he doesn’t,” said Lanigan, “but if 
I were you, Mrs. Petter, I would take him out a 
shawl or something to put over his shoulders. He 

149 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

oughtn’t to be standing out there in the night 
wind.” 

shall do nothing of the kind,” she answered 
shortly, and I oughtn’t to be out here in the night 
air, either.” 

Lanigan gazed at Mrs. Cristie and her companion. 
If that charming young widow wanted some one to 
walk about with her in the moonlight, she could surely 
do better than that. Perhaps a diversion might be 
effected and partners changed. 

“ Mrs. Fetter,” said he, I wouldn’t go in, if I were 
you. If you move about you will be all right. Sup- 
pose we stroll over that way.” 

I am ready to stroll,” said Mrs. Fetter, in a tone 
that showed she had been a good deal stirred by her 
companion’s remarks, ^‘but I am not going to stroll 
over that way. The place is big enough for people 
to keep to themselves, if they choose, and I am one 
that chooses, and I choose to walk in the direction of 
my duty, or, more properly, the duty of somebody 
else, and see that the hen-houses are shut j ” and tak- 
ing Lanigan’s arm, she marched him down to the barn, 
and then across a small orchard to the most distant 
poultry-house within the limits of the estate. 

When Mr. Stephen Fetter, allowing his eyes to drop 
from the pointed roof of his high tower, saw his wife 
and Lanigan Beam walking away among the trees in 
the orchard, he suddenly became aware that the night 
air was chilly, and suggested to his companion that it 
might be well to return to the house. 

Oh, not yet, Mr. Fetter,” said she ; I want you to 
tell me how you came to have that little turret over 
the thatched roof.” 


150 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

She had determined that she would not go indoors 
while Calthea Rose and Mr. Lodloe sat together on 
that bench. 

Early in the evening Miss Calthea had seen Mr. 
Lodloe walking by himself upon the bluff, and she so 
arranged a little promenade of her own that in passing 
around some shrubbery she met him near the bench. 
Miss Calthea was an admirable manager in dialogue, 
and if she had an object in view it did not take her 
long to find out what her collocutor liked to talk about. 
She had unusual success in discovering something 
which very much interested Mr. Lodloe, and they 
were soon seated on a bench discussing the manners 
and ways of life in Lethbury. 

To a man who recently had been seized with a de- 
sire to marry and to live in Lethbury, and who had 
already taken some steps in regard to the marriage, 
this subject was one of the most lively interest, and 
Lodloe was delighted to find what a sensible, practical, 
and well-informed woman was Miss Rose. She was 
able to give him all sorts of points about buying, 
building, or renting houses in Lethbury, and she en- 
tered with the greatest zeal into the details of living, 
service, the cost of keeping a horse, a cow, and poul- 
try, and without making any inconvenient inquiries 
into the reasons for Mr. Lodloe^s desire for informal 
tion on these subjects. She told him everything he 
wanted to know about housekeeping in her native 
village, because she had made herself aware that his 
mind was set on that sort of thing. In truth, she did 
not care whether he settled in Lethbury or some other 
place, or whether he ever married and settled at all. 
All she wished was to talk to him in such a way that 

151 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

she might keep him with her as long as possible. She 
wished this because she liked to keep a fine-looking 
young man all to herself, and also because she thought 
that the longer she did so the more uneasiness she 
would cause Mrs. Cristie. 

She had convinced herself that it would not do for 
life to fioat too smoothly at the Squirrel Inn. She 
would stir up things here and there, but prudently, 
so that, no matter who became disgusted and went 
away, it would not be Mr. Tippengray. She was not 
concerned at present about this gentleman. It was 
ten to one that by this time Lanigan Beam had driven 
him away from the child’s nurse. 

Walter Lodloe was now beginning to feel that it 
was quite time that his conversation with Miss Bose, 
which had really lasted much longer than he supposed, 
should be brought to a close. His manner indicating 
this. Miss Calthea immediately entered into a most 
attractive description of a house picturesquely situated 
on the outskirts of Lethbury, which would probably soon 
be vacated on account of the owner’s desire to go West. 

At the other end of the extensive lawn two persons 
walked backward and forward near the edge of the 
trees, perfectly satisfied and untroubled. What the 
rest of the world was doing was of no concern what- 
ever to either of them. 

^‘I am afraid, Mr. Tippengray,” said the nurse- 
maid, ‘^that when your Greek version of the litera- 
ture of to-day, especially its humorous portion, is 
translated into the American language of the future, 
it will lose much of its x)oint and character.” 

^‘You must remember, my dear Miss Mayberry,” 
said the gentleman, that we do not know what our 

152 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

language will be in eight hundred or a thousand 
years from now. The English of to-day may be ut- 
terly unintelligible to the readers of that era. But that 
portion of our literature which I put into imperishable 
and unchangeable Greek will be the same then as 
now. The scholar may read it for his own pleasure 
and profit, or he may translate it for the pleasure 
and profit of others. At all events, it will be there, 
like a fly in amber, good for all time. All you have 
to do is to melt your amber, and there you have your 
fly.’^ 

And a well shrivelled up fly it would be, I am 
afraid,” said Ida. 

Mr. Tippengray laughed. 

Be not too sure of that,” he said. I will translate 
some of my Greek version of ‘Pickwick^ back into 
English, and let you see for yourself how my amber 
preserves the fly.” 

Let me do it,” said Ida. It is a long time since 
I read ‘Pickwick,^ and therefore my translation will 
be a better test.” 

Capital ! ” cried Mr. Tippengray. I will copy a 
few lines for you to-night.” 

From out an open Elizabethan window under a 
mansard roof, and overlooking a small Moorish ve- 
randa, there came a sound of woe. The infant Douglas 
had awakened from a troubled sleep, and with a wild 
and piercing cry he made known to his fellow-beings 
his desire for society. Instantly there was a kaleido- 
scopic change among the personages on the grounds of 
the Squirrel Inn. Miss Mayberry darted toward the 
house ; the Greek scholar, without knowing what he 
was doing, ran after her for a short distance, and then 

153 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

stopped ; Mrs. Fetter screamed from the edge of the 
orchard to know what was the matter j and Lanigan 
ran to see. Mr. Fetter^ the natural guardian of the 
place, pricked up his ears and strode toward the inn, 
his soul filled with a sudden fear of fire. Mrs. Cristie 
recognized the voice of her child, but saw Ida running, 
and so, relieved of present anxiety, remained where 
her companion had left her. 

Walter Lodloe, hearing Mrs. Fetter ^s voice and the 
running, sprang from his seat 5 and seeing that it 
would be impossible to detain him now, and prefer- 
ring to leave rather than to be left. Miss Calthea 
hurried away to see what was the matter. 


154 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE BLOSSOM AND THE LITTLE JAR 

Perceiving Mrs. Cristie standing alone near the en- 
trance to the garden, Walter Lodloe walked rapidly 
toward her. As he approached she moved in the 
direction of the house. 

Will you not stop a moment? he said. “ Do not 
go in yet.’’ 

‘^I must,” she answered, ^‘I have been out here a 
long while — too long.” • 

Out here a long time ! ” he exclaimed. “ You sur- 
prise me. Please stop one moment. I want to tell 
you of a most interesting conversation I have had with 
Miss Rose. It has animated me wonderfully.” 

Considering what had occurred that afternoon, this 
remark could not fail to impress Mrs. Cristie, and she 
stopped and looked at him. He did not give her time 
to ask any questions, but went on : 

I have been asking her about life in Lethbury — 
houses, gardens, everything that relates to a home in 
that delightful village. And what she has told me 
opens a paradise before me. I did not dream that 
down in that moon-lighted valley I should be almost 
rich j that I could offer you—” 

155 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

^^And may I ask/^ ske interrupted, you have 
been talking about me to Miss Kose ? 

‘‘ Not a word of it/^ he answered warmly. I never 
mentioned your name, nor referred to you in any 
way.^’ 

She could not help ejaculating a little sarcastically : 

How circumspect ! 

And now,” he said, coming closer to her, will you 
not give me an answer? I love you, and I cannot 
wait. And oh ! speak quickly, for here comes Mrs. 
Fetter straight toward us.” 

I do not like Lethbury,” said Mrs. Cristie. 

Lodloe could have stamped his feet, in the fire of 
his impatience. 

“ But of me, of myself? ” he said. And oh ! speak 
quickly ; she is almost here.” 

“Please cease,” said Mrs. Cristie, “she will hear 
you.” 

Mrs. Fetter came up panting. 

“I don’t want to interrupt you, Mrs. Cristie,” she 
said, “but really and truly you ought to go to your 
baby. He has stopped crying in the most startling 
and suspicious way. Of course I don’t know what 
she has done to him, and whether it’s anything surgi- 
cal or laudanum. And it isn’t for me to be there to 
smell the little creature’s breath j but you ought to go 
this minute, and if you find there is anything needed 
in the way of mustard, or hot water, or sending for 
the doctor, just call to me from the top of the stairs.” 

“My dear Mrs. Fetter,” said Mrs. Cristie, “why 
didn’t Calthea Kose come and tell me this herself, 
instead of sending you? ” 

“ She said that she thought you would take it better 

156 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

from me than from her ; and after we had made up 
our minds about it, she said I ought not to wait a 
second/^ 

‘‘ Well/^ said Mrs. Cristie, ‘4t was very good in you 
to come to me, but I do not feel in the least alarmed. 
It was Ida’s business to quiet the child, and I have no 
doubt she did it without knives or poison. But now 
that you are here, Mrs. Better, I wish to ask your 
opinion about something that Mr. Lodloe has been 
talking of to me.” 

The young man looked at her in astonishment. 

“He has been telling me,” continued Mrs. Cristie, 
“ of a gentleman he knows, a person of education, and 
accustomed to society, who has conceived the idea 
of living in Lethbury. Now, what do you think of 
that? ” 

“Well,” said Mrs. Better, “if he’s married, and if 
his wife’s got the asthma, or he’s got it himself, I have 
heard that Lethbury is good for that sort of complaint. 
Or if he’s failed in business and has to live cheap, or 
if he is thinking of setting up a store where a person 
can get honest wash-goods, or if he has sickly children, 
and isn’t particular about schools, I suppose he might 
as well come to Lethbury as not.” 

“ But he has none of those reasons for settling here,” 
said Mrs. Cristie. 

“Well, then,” remarked Mrs. Better, somewhat 
severely, “ he must be weak in his mind. And if he’s 
that, I don’t think he’s needed in Lethbury.” 

As she finished speaking the good woman turned 
and beheld her husband just coming out of the house. 
Being very desirous of having her talk with him, and 
not very well pleased at the manner in which her 

157 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

mission had been received, she abruptly betook her- 
self to the house. 

Now, then,’’ said Mrs. Cristie, turning to Lodloe, 
“ what do you think of that very explicit opinion? ” 

^^Does it agree with yours?” he asked. 

‘^Wonderfully,” she replied. “I could not have 
imagined that Mrs. Fetter and I were so much of a 
mind.” 

“ Mrs. Cristie,” said Lodloe, “ I drop Lethbury, and 
here I stand with nothing but myself to offer you.” 

The moon had now set, the evening was growing 
dark, and the lady began to feel a little chilly about 
the shoulders. 

“Mr. Lodloe,” she asked, “what did you do with 
that bunch of sweet peas you picked this after- 
noon? ” 

“ They are in my room,” he said eagerly. “ I have 
put them in water. They are as fresh as when I 
gathered them.” 

“Well,” she said, speaking rather slowly, “if to- 
morrow, or next day, or any time when it may be 
convenient, you will bring them to me, I think I will 
take them.” 

In about half an hour Mrs. Cristie went into the 
house, feeling that she had stayed out entirely too 
late. In her room she found Ida reading by a shaded 
lamp, and the baby sleeping soundly. The nurse-maid 
looked up with a smile, and then turned her face again 
to her book. Mrs. Cristie stepped quietly to the 
mantelpiece, on which she had set the little jar from 
Florence, but to her surprise there was nothing in it. 
The sweet-pea blossom was gone. After looking here 
and there upon the floor, she went over to Ida, and in 

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THE SQUIRREL INN 

a low voice asked her if she had seen anything of a 
little flower that had been in that jar. 

Oh, yes,’^ said the girl, putting down her book ; 
‘‘ I gave it to baby to amuse him, and the instant he 
took it he stopped crying, and very soon went to 
sleep. There it is ; I declare, he is holding it yet.” 

Mrs. Cristie went softly to the bedside of the child, 
and, bending over him, gently drew the sweet-pea 
blossom from his chubby little fist. 


159 


CHAPTER XXIII 


HAMMERSTEIN 

Miss Calthea Rose was up and about very early 
the next morning. She had work to do in which 
there must be no delay or loss of opportunity. It was 
plain enough that her scheme for driving away Ida 
Mayberry had failed, and, having carefully noted the 
extraordinary length of time which Mrs. Cristie and 
Mr. Lodloe spent together under the stars the pre- 
vious evening, she was convinced that it would not be 
easy to make that lady dissatisfied with the Squirrel 
Inn. She therefore determined to turn aside from 
her plans of exile, to let the child^s nurse stay where 
she pleased, to give no further thought to Lanigan 
Beam, and to devote all her energies to capturing Mr. 
Tippengray. She believed that she had been upon 
the point of doing this before the arrival of intruders 
on the scene, and she did not doubt that she could 
reach that point again. 

Miss Calthea was very restless that morning ,* she 
was much more anxious to begin work than was any- 
body else on the place. She walked about the ground, 
went into the garden, passed the summer-house on her 
way there and back again, and even wandered down 
to the barn-yard, where the milking had just begun. 

160 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

If any one had been roaming about like herself^ she 
could not have failed to observe such person. But 
there was no one about until a little before breakfast- 
time, when Mr. Better showed himself. 

This gentleman greeted Calthea coolly. He had 
had a very animated conversation with his wife on 
the evening before, and had been made acquainted 
with the unwarrantable enmity exhibited by this vil- 
lage shopkeeper toward Mrs. Gristle’s blooded assist- 
ant. He was beginning to dislike Calthea, and he 
remembered that the Kockmores never liked her, and 
he wished very much that she would cease to spend so 
much of her time at his house. After breakfast Cal- 
thea was more fortunate. She saw the Greek scholar 
walking upon the lawn, with a piece of writing-paper 
in his hand. In less than five minutes, by the merest 
accident in the world, Mr. Tippengray was walking 
across the lawn with Miss Eose, and he had put his 
piece of paper into his pocket. 

She wanted to ask him something. She would de- 
tain him only a few minutes. The questions she put 
to him had been suggested to her by something she 
had read that morning— a most meagre and unsatis- 
factory passage. She held in her hand the volume 
which, although she did not tell him so, had taken 
her a half-hour to select in Mr. Better’s book-room. 
Shortly they were seated together, and he was an- 
swering her questions which, as she knew, related to 
the most interesting experiences of his life. As he 
spoke his eyes glistened and her soul warmed. He 
did not wish that this should be so. He wanted to 
bring this interview to an end. He was nervously 
anxious to go back on the lawn, that he might see 

161 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

Miss Mayberry wben sbe came out of doorS; that he 
might show her the lines of Pickwick ’’ which he had 
put into Greeks and which she was to turn back into 
English. 

But he could not cut short the interview. Miss 
Calthea was not an Ancient Mariner ; she had never 
even seen the sea, and she had no glittering eye ; but 
she held him with a listening ear, and never was wed- 
ding-guest, or any other man, held more securely. 

Minutes, quarter-hours, half-hours passed, and still 
he talked and she listened. She guided his speech as 
a watchful sailor guides his ship, and whichever way 
she turned it the wind always filled his sails. For 
the first ten minutes he had been ill at ease, but after 
that he had begun to feel that he had never so mueh 
enjoyed talking. In time he forgot everything but 
what he had to say, and it was rapture to be able to 
say it, and to feel that never before had he said it so 
well. 

His back was toward the inn, but through some 
trees Miss Calthea could see that Mr. Fetter’s spring- 
wagon, drawn by the two grays, Stolzenfels and Fal- 
kenberg, was at the door, and soon she perceived that 
Mr. Lodloe was in the driver’s place, and that Mrs. 
Gristle, with Ida Mayberry holding the baby, was on 
the back seat. The place next Lodloe was vacant, and 
they seemed to be waiting for some one. Then Lani- 
gan Beam came up. There was a good deal of conver- 
sation, in which he seemed to be giving information, 
and presently he sprang up beside the driver and they 
were off. The party were going for a long drive. Miss 
Calthea thought, because Mrs. Petter had eome out and 
had put a covered basket into the back of the wagon. 

162 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

Mr. Tippengray was so absorbed in the interest of 
wbat be was saying that be did not bear tbe roll of tbe 
departing wheels, and Miss Caltbea allowed bim to 
talk on for nearly a quarter of an bonr, until sbe 
tbongbt be bad exhausted the branch of tbe subject 
on which be was engaged, and was sure the spring- 
wagon was out of sight and bearing. Then sbe de- 
clared that sbe bad not believed that any part of tbe 
world could be as interesting as that region which Mr. 
Tipi^engray bad been describing to her, and that sbe 
was sorry sbe could not sit there all the morning and 
listen to bim, but duty was duty, and it was necessary 
for her to return to Letbbnry. 

This announcement did not seem in tbe least to de- 
crease tbe good spirits of tbe Greek scholar, but bis 
chin and bis spirits fell when, on reaching the bouse, 
be beard from ISIrs. Petter that bis fellow-guests bad 
gone off for a long drive. 

“ They expected to take yon, Mr. Tippengray,’’ said 
bis hostess, but Lanigan Beam said be bad seen you 
and Miss Bose walking across the fields to Letbbnry, 
and so they asked bim to go. I hope they’ll be back 
to dinner, but there’s no knowing, and so I put in a 
basket of sandwiches and things to keep them from 
starving before they get home.” 

Miss Caltbea was quite surprised. 

We were sitting over yonder the whole time,” sbe 
said,— ‘Wery much occupied with talking, it is true, 
but near enough to bear if we bad been called. I 
fancy that Lanigan bad reasons of bis own for saying 
we had gone to Letbbnry.” 

Poor Mr. Tippengray was downcast. How mncb 
time must elapse before be would have an opportunily 

163 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

to deliver tlie piece of paper lie liad in liis pocket ! 
How long would lie be obliged to lounge around by 
himself waiting for Ida Mayberry to return ! 

‘^Well/’ said Calthea, “I must go home; and as I 
ought to have been there long ago, I am going to ask 
Mr. Fetter to lend me a horse and buggy. It’s the 
greatest pity, Mr. Tippengray, that you have lost your 
drive with your friends ; but as you can’t have that, 
suppose you take one with me. I don’t mind acknowl- 
edging to you that I am a little afraid of Mr. Fetter’s 
.horses, but with you driving I should feel quite safe.” 

If Mr. Tippengray could have immediately thought 
of any good reason why he should stay at home 
•that morning he would probably have given it, but 
none came into his mind. After all, he might as well 
be driving to Lethbury as staying there doing nothing ; 
and there could be no doubt that Miss Calthea was 
very agreeable that morning. Consequently he ac- 
cepted the invitation. 

Calthea Eose went herself to the barn to speak to 
Mr. Fetter about the horse, and especially requested 
that he would lend her old Zahringen, whom she knew 
to be the most steady of beasts ; but Zahringen had 
gone to be shod, and there was no horse at her service 
except Hammerstein, and no vehicle but a village cart. 
Hammerstein was a better horse than Zahringen, and 
would take Calthea home more rapidly, which en- 
tirely suited Mr. Fetter. 

It may be here remarked that the barn and stables 
were not of Mr. Fetter’s building, but in order that 
they might not be entirely exempt from the influence 
of his architectural fancies, he had given his horses 
the names of certain castles on the Ehine. 


164 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

Caltliea was not altogether satisfied with the sub- 
^itution of the big black horse for the fat brown one, 
but she could make no reasonable objection, and the 
vehicle was soon at the door. 

Mr. Tippengray was very fond of driving, and his 
spirits had risen again. But he was a good deal sur- 
IDrised when Miss Calthea declined to take the seat 
beside him, preferring to occupy the rear seat, with 
her back to the horse. By turning a little to one 
side, she said, she could talk just as well, and it was 
more comfortable in such a small vehicle as a village 
cart to have a whole seat to one’s self. 

As soon as they were in the road that ran through 
the woods she proved that she could twist herself 
around so as to talk to her companion, and look him 
in the face, quite as easily as if she had been sitting 
beside him. They chatted together, and looked each 
other in the face, and the Greek scholar enjoyed driv- 
ing very much until they had gone a mile or more on 
the main road, and had come upon an overturned 
wagon lying by the roadside. At this Hammerstein 
and the conversation suddenly stopped. The big 
black horse was very much opposed to overturned 
vehicles. He knew that in some way they were con- 
nected with disaster, and he would not willingly go 
near one. He stood, head up, ears forward, and 
slightly snorting. Mr. Tippengray was annoyed by 
this nonsense. 

Go on ! ” he cried. Get up ! ” Then the driver 
took the whip from the socket and gave the horse a 
good crack. 

Get up ! ” he cried. 

Hammerstein obeyed, but got up in a manner which 

165 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

Mr. Tipjiengray did not intend. He arose upon his 
hind legs^ and pawed the air, appearing to the two 
persons behind him like a tall, blaek, unsteady steeple. 

When a horse harnessed to a village eart sees fit to 
rear, the hind part of the vehicle is brought very near 
to the ground, so that a person sitting on the back 
seat can step out without trouble. Miss Calthea per- 
ceived this, and stepped out. On general principles, 
she was quite sure it was safer to alight from the 
hind seat of a village cart than from the front 
seat. 

Don’t pull at him that way,” she cried, from the 
opposite side of the road. “ He will go over backward 
on top of you. Let him alone and perhaps he will 
stop rearing.” 

Hammerstein now stood on all his feet again, and 
Miss Calthea earnestly advised Mr. Tippengray to turn 
him around and drive back. 

1 am not far from home now,” she said, “ and can 
easily walk there. I really think I do not care to get 
in again. But I am sure he will go home to his stable 
without giving you any trouble.” 

But Mr. Tip]3engray’s spirit was up, and he would 
not be conquered by a horse, especially in the pres- 
ence of a lady. 

shall make him pass it !” he cried, and he brought 
down his whip on Hammerstein’s back with such force 
that the startled animal gave a great bound forward, 
and then, finding himself so near the dreaded wreck, 
he gave a wilder bound, and j^assed it. Then, being 
equipped with blinders, which did not allow him to 
see behind him, he did not know but that the fright- 
ful wagon, its wheels uppermost, was wildly pursuing 

166 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

him, and fearing that this might be so, he galloped 
onward with all his speed. 

The Greek scholar pulled at the reins and shouted 
in such a way that Hammerstein was convinced that 
he was being urged to use all efforts to get away from 
the oncoming monster. He did not turn into the 
Lethbury road when he came to it, but kept straight 
on. At such a moment the straighter the road the 
better. Going down a long hill, Mr. Tippengray, still 
pulling and shouting, and now hatless, perceived, 
some distance ahead of him, a boy standing by the 
roadside. It was easy enough for the practised eye 
of a country boy to take in the state of affairs, and 
his instincts prompted him to skip across the road 
and open a gate which led into a field recently 
ploughed. 

Mr. Tippengray caught at the boy’s idea, and, exer- 
cising all his strength, he turned Hammerstein into 
the open gateway. When he had made a dozen 
plunges into the deep furrows and through the soft, 
yielding loam, the horse concluded that he had had 
enough of that sort of exercise, and stopped. Mr. 
Tippengray, whose senses had been nearly bounced 
out of him, sprang from the cart, and, slipping on the 
uneven surface of the ground, tumbled into a deep 
furrow, from which, however, he instantly arose, with- 
out injury, except to his clothes. Hurrying to the 
head of the horse, he found the boy already there, 
holding the now quiet animal. The Greek scholar 
looked at him admiringly. 

‘^My young friend,” said he, ^Hhat was a noble 
thought, worthy of a philosopher.” 

The boy grinned. 


167 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

They generally stop when they get into a ploughed 
field/^ he said. What sheered him ? 

Mr. Tippengray briefly related the facts of the case, 
and the horse was led into the road. It was soon 
ascertained that no material harm had been done to 
harness or vehicle. 

^Woung man/^ said Mr. Tippengray, ^^what will 
you take for your hat ? 

The boy removed his head-covering and looked at 
it. It was of coarse straw, very wide, very much out 
of shape, without a band, and with a hole in the crown 
surrounded by a tuft of broken straw. 

Well,^’ said he, it ain’t worth much now, but it’ll 
take a quarter to buy a new one.” 

“Here is a quarter for your hat,” said the Greek 
scholar, “and another for your perspicacity. I suj)- 
pose I shall find my hat on the road, but I cannot 
wait for that ; the sun is too hot.” 

The Greek scholar now started homeward, leading 
Hammerstein. He liked walking, and had no inten- 
tion whatever of again getting into that cart. If, when 
they reached the overturned wagon, the animal should 
again upheave himself, or in any way misbehave, Mr. 
Tippengray intended to drop his hold of him, and 
allow him to pursue his homeward way in such manner 
and at such speed as might best please him. 

The two walked a long distance without reaching 
the object of Hammerstein’s fright, and Mr. Tippen- 
gray began to think that the road was a good deal 
narrower and more shaded than he had supposed it to 
be. The fact was that a road diverged from the right, 
near the top of the hill, which he had not noticed 
when passing it in mad career, and naturally turning 

1G8 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

to the right, without thinking very much about it, he 
had taken this road instead of the one by which he 
had come. Our scholar, however, did not yet com- 
prehend that he was on the wrong road, and kept on. 

Soon his way led through the woods, with great out- 
stretching trees, with wide-open spaces, interspersed 
here and there with masses of undergrowth. Mr. 
Tippengray greatly enjoyed the shaded road, the 
smell of the pines, and the flowers scattered along the 
edges of the wood. But in a few minutes he would 
doubtless have discovered that he had gone astray, 
and, notwithstanding the x>leasantness of his sur- 
roundings, he would have turned back, had he not 
suddenly heard voices not far away. He stopped and 
listened. 

The voices came from behind a clump of evergreens 
close by the roadside, and, to his utter amazement, Mr. 
Tippengray heard the voice of Lanigan Beam saying 
to some one that true love must speak out, and could 
not be silenced j that for days he had been looking for 
an opportunity, and now that it had come, she must 
hear him, and know that his heart was hers only, and 
could never belong to anybody else. Then the voice 
of Ida Mayberry, very clear and distinct, replied that 
he must not talk to her in that way ; that her line of 
life and his were entirely different. She was doubt- 
less going to say more, when her companion inter- 
rupted, and vowed with all possible earnestness that 
whatever line of life she chose should be his line ; 
that he would gladly give up every plan and purpose, 
follow her in whatever direction she chose to lead, and 
do whatever she wished he should do. 

Mr. Tippengray was very uneasy. The subject- 

169 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

matter of the conversation lie was overhearing dis- 
turbed him in a manner which he did not understand, 
and he felt, moreover, that it was not proper for him 
to listen to another word. He did not know what to 
do : if he moved forward they would hear the wheels, 
and know that he had been near 5 and if he attempted 
to back out of the vicinity there was no knowing what 
hubbub he and Hammerstein might 'create. While 
standing undecided, he heard Lanigan speak thus : 

And as for Greek and that sort of thing, you shall 
have all you want. I’ll hire old Tippengray by the 
year 5 he shall be the family pedagogue, and we’ll tap 
him for any kind of learning we may happen to 
want.” 

Instantly all thought of retreat fled from the mind 
of the scholar ; his eyes glittered, and he was on the 
point of doing something, when there came from a 
little distance the voice of Mrs. Cristie, loudly calling 
for Ida. There was shuflling of feet, and in a few 
moments Mr. Tippengray perceived the nurse -maid 
rapidly walking away between the trees, while Lani- 
gan leisurely followed. 

With head erect and nostrils dilated, as if he had 
been excited by the perception of something upside 
down, Mr. Tippengray again laid hold of the bridle 
of Hammerstein, and went on. In a few minutes he 
emerged upon an open space, through which flowed a 
little brook, and where sat Mrs. Cristie, Lodloe, Ida 
Mayberry with the baby in her lap, and Lanigan Beam. 
All of these persons, excepting the infant, were eating 
sandwiches. 

At the sight of the little man and the tall horse, the 
former spattered with mud, smeared with the earth of 

170 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

the ploughed field, and crowned with a misshapen hat 
with the expansive hole in the top, the sandwich- eaters 
stopped eating, gazed open-eyed, and then hurst out 
laughing. Mr. Tii)pengray did not laugh j his eyes 
still glittered. 

It was half an hour before the tale was told, order 
restored, and Mr. Tippengray had washed his face and 
hands in the brook and taken refreshment. Then he 
found himself alone with Mrs. Cristie. 

Truly you have had a hard time,’^ said she, kindly. 

“Madam,’’ answered the Greek scholar, “you are 
entirely correct. This has been an unfortunate day 
for me. I have been cunningly entrapped and heart- 
lessly deserted ,* I have been nearly frightened out of 
my wits, have had my soul nearly burned out of my 
body, and have been foully besmirched with dirt and 
mud. But, worse than all, I have heard myself made 
the subject of contempt and contumely.” 

“ How is that? ” exclaimed Mrs. Cristie. “ I do not 
understand.” 

“ I will quickly make it plain to you,” said the 
indignant scholar, and he related the conversation he 
had overheard. 

“ What a shameful way to speak of you, Mr. Tip- 
pengray ! ” cried Mrs. Cristie. “ I did not suppose 
that Mr. Beam would dare to say such things to one 
whom he knew to be your friend. I have no donbt 
that if I had not called Ida at that moment, you 
would have heard her resent that disrespectful 
speech.” 

“ I hope so ; with all my heart, I hope so,” replied 
the Greek scholar. 

He said this with so much feeling that his com- 

171 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

panion looked at kini a few moments without 
speaking. 

^^Mr. Tippengray/^ she said presently, ‘4t is time 
for us to go home. How would you like to take Ida 
Mayberry back in your cart 1 ’’ 

The brightness in the eyes of the Greek scholar 
changed from the glitter of indignation to gleams of 

joy- 

Madam/’ said he, I should like it of all things. 
It would remove from the anticipated pleasures of 
this day the enormous alpha privative which has so 
far overshadowed them.” 

The young widow did not exactly comprehend this 
answer, but it was enough to know that he was glad 
to accept the opportunity she offered him. No sooner 
had he spoken than Mr. Tippengray remembered the 
hazards to which he was exposing himself by again 
taking the reins of Hammerstein, but not for an 
instant did he think of drawing back. His desire to 
take Ida Mayberry away from that fellow, and have 
her by himself, overpowered fear and all other feel- 
ings. 

Mrs. Cristie’s arrangement for the return pleased 
everybody except Lanigan Beam. The nurse -maid 
was perfectly willing to go in the village cart, and 
was not at all afraid of horses j and Walter Lodloe had 
no objection to sitting on the back seat of the wagon 
with his lady-love, and helping take care of the baby. 
Lanigan made few remarks about the situation j he 
saw that he had made a mistake, and was being pun- 
ished for it, and without remonstrance he took the 
front seat and the reins of the grays. 


172 


CHAPTER XXIY 


TRANSLATIONS 

Lanigan Beam had no more fear of Mr. Tippengray 
as a rival than he would have had of Mr. Fetter ; but 
the apportionment of companions for the return trip 
nettled him a good deal, and, as a consequence of this, 
the pair of grays travelled homeward at a smarter 
pace than before, and Hammerstein and the village 
cart were soon left far behind. 

The road was not the one by which Mr. Tippengray 
had arrived on the scene, but led through the woods 
to the main road, which it joined at a point not far 
from the sign of the Squirrel Inn. Hammerstein trav- 
elled very quietly and steadily of his own accord, 
slackening his gait at the rough jdaces, thus giving 
Mr. Tippengray every opportunity for an uninter- 
rupted converse with his fellow-scholar ; and he lost 
no time in submitting to her his Greek version of the 
lines from Pickwick.’’ 

I am very glad you have it with you,” said Ida, 
^^for I put my Greek dictionary in my pocket this 
morning, when I first came down, hoping to have a 
chance to do some translating ; and what better chance 
could I have than this ? ” 

Drawing out her dictionary and a little blank-book, 

173 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

she immediately began her labors. Mr. Tii)pengray 
did not altogether like this. He felt an intense and 
somewhat novel desire to eonverse with the young 
woman on no matter what subject^ and he wonld have 
preferred that she shonld postpone the translation. 
But he wonld not interrupt the engrossing occupa- 
tion into which she now plunged with ardor. Eai3idly 
turning backward and forward the leaves of the 
little dictionary^ and tapping her front teeth with 
her pencil as she puzzled over the correlation of 
Greek and English words and expressions, she silently 
pursued her work. 

Although he did not talk to her, it was very pleas- 
ant for Mr. Tijiiiengray to sit and look upon this fair 
young scholar. At her request, he made the tall steed 
walk, in order that her pencil might not be too much 
joggled, slyly thinking, the while, that thus the inter- 
view would be prolonged. The air was warm and 
balmy. Everything was still about them. They met 
no one, and every minute Mr. Tippengray became 
more and more convinced that, next to talking to her, 
there could be no greater joy in life than basking in 
the immediate atmosphere of this girl. 

At last she shut up her dictionary. 

Now, then ! she exclaimed, I have translated it, 
and I assure yon that it is a fair and square version, for 
I do not in the least remember the original paragraph.’’ 

“I have the original here,” said Mr. Tippengray, 
pulling the second volume of “ Pickwick ” from his 
pocket, ^^and we will compare it with your transla- 
tion, if yon will be so good as to read it. Yon do not 
know with what anxious enthusiasm I await the 
residt.” 


174 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

And I, too/^ said Ida, earnestly. I do not think 
there could be a better test of the power of the Greek 
language to embalm and preserve for future genera- 
tions the spirit of Dickens. Now I will read, and you 
can comjiare my work with the original as I go on.” 

The translation ran thus : 

‘ ‘ ‘ For the reason that he who drives a vehicle of the 
post-road holds high office above the masses,’ to him 
answered the Sire Weller with eyes affiliated; ‘for the 
reason that he who drives a vehicle of the post-road 
acteth at will, undoubted, humanity otherwise pro- 
hibited. For the reason that he who drives a vehicle of 
the post-road is able to look with affection on a woman 
of eighty far distant, though it is not publicly believed 
that in the midst of any it is his desire to wed. Among 
males which one discourseth similarly, Sammy? ’ ” 

“I wrote Sammy,” she explained, ^‘because I re- 
membered that is the way the name is used in Eng- 
lish.” 

Mr. Tippengray raised his eyebrows very high, and 
his chin slowly began to api^roach the sailor knot of 
his cravat. 

Oh, dear ! ” he said, I am afraid that this would 
not express to future ages the spirit and style of 
Dickens. The original passage runs thus j ” and he 
read : 

“ ‘ ’Cos a coachman’s a privileged individual,’ replied 
Mr. Weller, looking fixedly at his son. ‘ ’Cos a coach- 
man may do 'Without suspicion wot other men may not ; 
’cos a coachman may be on the very amicablest terms 
with eighty mile o’ females and yet nobody thinks that 
he ever means to marry any vun among ’em. And wot 
other man can say the same, Sammy? ’ ” 

175 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

“They are not much alike, are they?’’ said Miss 
Mayberry. “ I think if Dickens could read my trans- 
lation he would not in the least recognize it. The 
fact is, Mr. Tippengray, I do not believe that your 
method of Greek pickling will answer to preserve 
our fiction for the future. It may do for histories 
and scientific works, but when you come to dialect 
and vernacular, if you once get it into Greek you can 
never get it back again as it used to be.” 

“ That will be a great pity,” said Mr. Tippengray, 
“ for fiction makes up such a large part of our litera- 
ture. And it does seem that good English might be 
properly translated into good Greek.” 

“ Oh, it isn’t the translation,” said Ida ; “ that is all 
easy enough : it’s the resurrection back into the ori- 
ginal condition. Look at the prophet Enoch. He 
was translated, but if it were possible now to bring 
him back again, he would not be the same Enoch, you 
know.” 

“ One might infer from that simile,” said the Greek 
scholar, smiling, “ that when a bit of English gets into 
Greek it goes to heaven, and would better stay there. 
Perhaps you are right in what you say about fiction. 
Anyway, it is very pleasant to talk with one who can 
appreciate this subject, and reason sensibly about it.” 

Mr. Tippengray shut up his book and put it back 
into his pocket, while his companion tore her transla- 
tion from her note-book and scattered it in little bits 
along the road. 

“ I would not like it,” she said, “ if any one but you 
were to read that and know I did it.” 

Mr. Tippengray’s eyes and Mr. Tippengray’s heart 
turned toward her. Those words, “ any one but 

176 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

you,” touched him deeply. He had a feeling as if he 
were being translated into something better than his 
original self, and that this young woman was doing it. 
He wished to express this in some way, and to say a 
good many other things which came crowding upon 
his mind, but he expressed nothing and said none of 
these things. An exclamation from Ida caused him to 
look in front of him, and there was the spring- wagon 
with the horses standing still. 

Mrs. Cristie turned round and called to them : 

“ Mr. Beam says that there are some by-roads just 
ahead of us, and as he was afraid you might turn into 
one and get lost, he thought it better to wait for 
you.” 

Nonsense ! ” cried Miss Mayberry. There was no 
danger that we would turn into any by-ways. The 
road is plain enough.” 

“ I’m not so sure of that,” said Mr. Tippengray to 
himself. think that just now I was on the point 
of turning into a by-way.” 

The wagon now moved slowly on, and the village 
cart followed. Mr. Tippengray would gladly have 
dropped a good deal behind, but he found this not 
practicable, because whenever he made Hammerstein 
walk Stolzenfels and Falkenberg also walked. It was 
plain enough that Lanigan Beam did not wish any 
longer to cut himself off from the society of the lady 
to whom he had made a proposal of marriage, and 
whenever he could find a pretext, which was not diffi- 
cult for Banigau, he called back to her to direct her 
attention to something, or to ask her opinion about 
something. Miss Mayberry did not respond with any 
readiness, but the persistence of the young man suc- 

177 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

ceeded iu making the conversation a general one, and 
the Greek scholar made no attempt to explain to the 
nurse-maid that he was in course of translation. 

Dinner was very late at the Squirrel Inn that day, 
and Mrs. Fetter gave her guests a scolding. But this 
did not in the least disturb the mind of Mr. Tippen- 
gray, who was well used to being scolded for coming 
late to his meals. But something else disturbed him, 
and for nearly an hour after dinner he wandered 
about the lawn and around the house. He wanted 
very much to see Miss Mayberry again, and to tell 
her the things he did not have a chance to tell her on 
the road, and he also very much wished to i^revent 
that rascally Lanigan Beam from getting ahead of 
him, and continuing his broken- off interview with 
the lady. 


178 


CHAPTER XXY 


ME. TIPPENGEAY MOUNTS HIGH 

It seemed as if every one must be taking an afternoon 
nap, for the Greek scbolar had the grounds to himself. 
When he began to be tired of walking, he seated him- 
self where he had a good view of the house, and pres- 
ently saw Ida Mayberry at her window, with the 
young Douglas in her arms. Almost at the same mo- 
ment he saw Lanigan Beam approaching from the 
direction of the barns. 

If he turns his steps toward that window,’’ 
thought the scholar, “ I shall see to it that I am there 
before him.” 

But the young man did not walk toward the front 
of the house, but went in the direction of his room, 
where the ladder stood leaning against the open 
window. Mounting this, he disapiieared within. 

The eyes of Mr. Tippengray flashed, and his face 
was lighted by a bright thought. In an instant he 
was on his feet and running lightly toward Lanigan’s 
room. Cautiously and silently he approached the 
ladder 5 deftly, and without making the least noise, 
he moved the upper end of it from the side of the 
building, and then, putting it on his shoulder, gently 
walked away with it. 


179 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

Around to the front of the house Mr. Tippengray 
carried the ladder, and boldly placed it nearly up- 
right under Miss Mayberry’s window. In astonish- 
ment that young lady looked out and asked him what 
in the world he was doing. 

want to speak to you,” said Mr. Tippengray, 
“on a subject of great importance, and I cannot 
afford to lose this opportunity. May I come up ? ” 

“ Certainly,” said Ida. 

In a moment the Greek scholar was standing on one 
of the upper rounds of the ladder, with his head and 
shoulders well above the window-sill. Little Douglas 
was delighted to see him, and, taking hold of his out- 
stretched forefinger, gave it a good wag. 

“It was a capital notion,” said Mr. Tippengray, 
“for me to take this ladder. In the first filace, it 
enables me to get up to you, and secondly, it prevents 
Lanigan Beam from getting down from his room.” 

Miss Mayberry laughed, and the baby crowed in 
sympathy. 

“Why shouldn’t he get down, Mr. Tippengray?” 
said she. 

“If he did,” was the answer, “he would be sure to 
interfere with me. He would come here, and I don’t 
want him. I have something to say to you. Miss May- 
berry, and I must be brief in saying it, for bystanders, 
no matter who they might be, would prevent my 
speaking plainly. I have become convinced. Miss 
Mayberry, that my life will be imperfect, and indeed 
worthless, if I cannot pass it in prosecuting my studies 
in your company and with your assistance. You 
may think this strong language, but it is true.” 

“That would be very pleasant,” said the nurse- 

180 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

maid, but I do not see how you are going to manage 
it. My stay here will soon come to an end, for if Mrs. 
Cristie does not return to the city in a week or two, 
I must leave her. I am a teacher, you know, and 
before the end of the summer vacation I must go and 
make my arrangements for the next term ; and then, 
you can easily see for yourself that when I am en- 
gaged in a school I cannot do very much studying 
with you.’’ 

‘‘ Oh, my dear young lady,” cried Mr. Tippengray, 
‘‘you do not catch my idea. I am not thinking 'of 
schools or positions, and I do not wish you to think of 
them. I wish you to know that you have translated 
me from a quiet scholar into an ardent lover, and that 
it would be of no use at all to try to get me back into 
my original condition. If I cannot be the man I 
want to be, I cannot be the man I was. I ask you 
for your hand, your heart, and your intellect. I 
invite you to join me in pursuing the higher educa- 
tion until the end of our lives. Take me for your 
scholar and be mine. I pray you give me—” 

“Upon— my word!” was the ejaculation, loud and 
distinct, which came up from the foot of the ladder 
and stopped Mr. Tippengray’s avowal. Miss May- 
berry instantly thrust her head out of the window, 
and Mr. Tippengray looked down. It was Calthea 
Kose who had spoken, and she stood under the window 
in company with Mr. and Mrs. Fetter. A short dis- 
tance away, and rapidly approaching, were Mrs. Cristie 
and Walter Lodloe. 

“Here is gratitude!” cried Calthea, in stinging 
tones. “ I came all the way back from Lethbury to 
see if anything had happened to you and that horse, 

181 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

and this is what I find. The top of a ladder and a child’s 
nurse ! Such a disgrace never fell on this county.” 

“Never, indeed,” cried Mrs. Fetter. “I wouldn’t 
have believed it if angels had got down on their knees 
and sworn it to me. Come down from that ladder, 
Mr. Tippengray ! Come down from it before I make 
my husband break it to bits beneath you. Come 
down, I say ! ” 

“ Mr. Tippengray,” said Mr. Fetter, in solemn 
voice, “in the name of the laws of domesticity and 
the hearthstone, and in the honorable name of the 
Squirrel Inn, I command yon to come down.” 

There was but one thing for Mr. Tippengray to do, 
and that was to come down, and so down he came. 

“Disgraceful!” cried Miss’ Fose, “you ought to be 
ashamed to look anybody in the face.” 

“Never would I have believed it,” exclaimed Mrs. 
Fetter. “ Never, never, if I had not seen it with my 
own eyes, and in broad daylight, too ! ” 

What Mr. Tippengray would have said or done is 
not known, for at that instant Ida Mayberry leaned 
far out of the window and claimed the attention of 
the company. 

“ Look here ! ” she cried, “ we have had enough of 
this. Mr. Tippengray has nothing to be ashamed of, 
and he had a perfect right to climb up this ladder. I 
want you all to understand that we are engaged to be 
married.” 

This announcement fell like a sudden downpour 
upon the people beneath the window, and they stood 
silenced ; but in an instant the Greek scholar bounded 
up the ladder, and, seizing Miss Mayberry by the 
hand, kissed it rapturously. 

182 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

I may have been a little abrupt/’ she said, in a 
low voice, ‘^but I wasn’t going to stand here and let 
our affair be broken off like that.” 

At Mr. Tippengray’s spontaneous exhibition of 
tender affection, Mr. Petter involuntarily and rever- 
ently took off his hat, while Mrs. Cristie and Lodloe 
clapped their hands. The lover, with radiant face, 
now descended the ladder and received congratula- 
tions from everybody except Miss Calthea, who, with 
her nose pointed about forty-five degrees above the 
horizon, walked rapidly to the post where she had 
tied her horse. 

Miss Mayberry now appeared, with the baby in her 
arms, and an expression of great satisfaction upon her 
face. Mrs. Cristie relieved her of the first, but the 
latter increased as the little company heartily shook 
hands with her. 

I had supposed it would be different with you, Mr. 
Tippengray,” said Mrs. Petter, ^^but people ought to 
know their own minds, and I have no doubt that Cal- 
thea would have often made it very hot for you, espe- 
cially if you did not turn over an entirely new leaf in 
regard to coming to your meals. But there must be 
no more laddering ; whether it is right or not, it does 
not look so. When Ida isn’t tending to the child, and 
it’s too wet to be out of doors, you can have the little 
parlor to yourselves. I’ll have it dusted and aired.” 

Excuse me,” said Lodloe, coming forward, ‘‘but if 
you have no further use for that ladder, Mr. Tippen- 
gray, I will take it to Lanigan Beam, who is leaning 
out of his window and shouting like mad. I presume 
he wants to come down, and as I have locked the door 
of my room, he cannot descend in that way.” 

183 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

‘^Poor Lanigan ! ejaculated Mrs. Fetter. 
doesn’t know wliat lie’s coming down to. But no 
matter wliat lie undertakes, lie is always a day after 
the fair.” 

Mr. Fetter drew the Greek scholar aside. 

^^My dear sir,” he said expressively, ‘‘I have a 
special reason for congratulating you on jmur decision 
to unite your blood aUd culture with those of another. 
Had you been entrapped by the wiles of our Leth- 
bury neighbor, a person for whom I have but slight 
regard, and who is looked upon with decided disap- 
probation by those as competent to judge as the Rock- 
mores of Germantown, I am afraid, my dear sir, I 
should have been compelled to sever those pleasant 
relations which for so many months have held us to- 
gether, and which I hope may continue for years.” 

My good Fetter,” said Mr. Tippengray, I have a 
pleasant house in town, which I hope to occupy with 
my wife this winter, and I should like it very much if 
you and Mrs. Fetter would make us a visit there, and, 
if you wish. I’ll have some of the Germantown Rock- 
mores there to meet you.” 

The landlord of the Squirrel Inn stepped back in 
amazement. 

“Do you mean to say,” he exclaimed, “that you 
know the Rockmores*?” 

“ The way of it is this,” replied the Greek scholar : 
“you see, my mother was a Purley, and on the ma- 
ternal side she belonged to the Kempton- Tucker 
family, and you know that the head of that family 
married for his second wife a Mrs. Callaway, who was 
own sister to John Brent Norris, whose daughter mar- 
ried a Rockmore. So you see we are connected.” 

184 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

“ And yon never told me ! solemnly exclaimed Mr. 
Fetter. 

^‘No/^ said liis companion, “there are pleasures of 
revelation which are enhanced by a delay in realiza- 
tion 5 and, besides, I did not wish to place myself in a 
position which might, perchance, subordinate some of 
your other guests.’^ 

“ I must admit that I am sorry,’^ said Mr. Fetter, 
“ but your action in the matter proves your blood.’^ 

And now, Mrs. Cristie having finished her very 
earnest conversation with Ida, the newly betrothed 
pair walked together toward the bluff from which 
there was such a beautiful view of the valley below. 


185 


CHAPTER XXVI 


ANOTHER SQUIRREL IN THE TAP-ROOM 

I had known/^ said Lauigan Beam, as late that 
night he sat smoking with Walter Lodloe in the top 
room of the tower, “ that that old rascal was capable 
of stealing my ladder in order to make love to my 
girl, I should have had a higher respect for him. 
Well, I’m done for, and now I shall lose no time in 
saying good-by to the Squirrel Inn and Lethbury.” 

“ Why so ” asked his companion, in surprise. Was 
the hope of winning Miss Mayberry the only thing 
that kept you here ? ” 

^^Oh, no,” said Lanigan, ^^it was the hope that Cal- 
thea might get old Tippengray. You will remember 
I told you that. But as she cannot now go off with 
him, there is nobody for her to go off with, and so I 
must be the one to travel.” 

Lodloe laughed. “ Under the circumstances, then,” 
he said, ^^you think you couldn’t stay in this neigh- 
borhood ? ” 

^^Xot with Calthea unattached,” replied Lanigan. 
“ Oh, no ! Quite impossible.” 

When Miss Rose had been convinced that all her 
plans had come to naught, earnestly and with much 
severity and singleness of i^urpose she considered the 

186 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

situation. It did not take ker long to arrive at the 
conclusion that the proper thing for her to do was to 
marry Lanigan Beam, and to do it without loss of 
time. Having come to this decision, she immediately 
began to make arrangements to carry it into effect. 

It was utterly vain and useless for Lanigan to at- 
tempt to get away from her. She came upon him 
with a sweet assurance which he supposed had van- 
ished with her earlier years ; she led him with ribbons 
which he thought had faded and fallen into shreds 
long, long ago ; she clapped over his head a bag which 
he supposed had been worn out on old Tippengray ; 
and she seeured him with fetters which he imagined 
had long since been dropped, forgotten, and crumbled 
into dust. He did not go away, and it was not long- 
before it was generally understood in the neighbor- 
hood that, at last, he and Calthea Kose were to be 
married. 

Shortly after this fact had been made public, Lani- 
gan and Walter Lodloe, who had not seen each other 
for some days, were walking together on the Lethbury 
road. 

^Wes,’^ said the former, “it is a little odd, but then, 
odd things are all the time happening. I don’t know 
whether Calthea has taken me in by virtue of my first 
engagement to her, or on some of the others. Or it 
may be that it is merely a repeal of our last breaking 
off. Anyway, I found she had never dreamed of any- 
thing but marrying me ; and though I thought I had 
a loose foot, I found I hadn’t, and there’s an end of 
it. Besides, I will say for Calthea that her feelings 
are different from what I supposed they were. She 
has mellowed up a good deal in the last year or two, 

187 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

and I shall try to make things as easy for her as 
I can. 

But one thing is certain : I shall stick to my reso- 
lution not to tell her that I have made money, and 
have reformed my old, loose ways of living and doing 
business. All that I am going to keep as a sort of 
saving fund that I can draw on when I feel like it, 
and let it alone when I don’t feel like it. We are 
going to travel,— she is wild on that point,— and she 
expects to pay the ];)iper. She can’t do it, but I shall 
let her think she’s doing it. She takes me for a rat- 
tling scapegrace, and I needn’t put on the sober and 
respectable unless I choose to ; and when I do choose 
it will be a big card in my hand. By George ! I 
know Calthea so well that I can twist her around my 
finger ; and I am not sure, if I had got the other one, 
that I could have done that. It’s much more likely 
that I should have been the twisted one.” 

^^What is Miss Bose going to do about her busi- 
ness ? ” asked Lodloe. 

Oh, that’s to be wound up with a jerk,” answered 
his companion. ‘M’ve settled all that. She wanted 
to hire somebody to take charge of the store while 
we’re gone, and to sell out the things on her old plan ; 
but that’s all tomfoolery. I have engaged a shop- 
keeper at Bomney to come out and buy the whole 
stock at retail price, and I gave him the money to do 
it with. That’s good business, you know, because it’s 
the same as money coming back to me ; and as for the 
old oddments and remnants and endments of faded 
braids and rotten calicoes, it’s a clear profit to be rid 
of them. If the Bomney man sends them to be ground 
up at the i)aper-mill, he may pay himself for the cart- 

188 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

age and his time. So the shoj) will be shut day after 
to-morrow, and you can see for yourself that my style 
of business is going to be of the stern, practical sort j 
and, after all, I don’t see any better outlook for a 
fellow than to live a married life in which very little 
is expected of him, while he knows that he has on 
tap a good bank-account and a first-class moral char- 
acter.” 

The autumn was a very pleasant one, and as there 
was no reason for doing anything else, the guests at 
the Squirrel Inn remained until late in the season. 
Therefore it was that Miss Calthea was enabled to 
marry and start off on her wedding-tour before the 
engaged couples at the inn had returned to the city, 
or had even fixed the dates for their weddings. Cal- 
thea was not a woman who would allow herself to be 
left behind in matters of this nature. From her gen- 
eral loftiness and serenity of manner, and the perfect 
ease and satisfaction with which she talked of her 
plans and prospects with her friends and acquaint- 
ances, no one could have imagined that she had ever 
departed from her original intention of becoming 
Mrs. Lanigan Beam. 

In the midst of her happiness, she could not help 
feeling a little sorry for Ida Mayberry, and this she 
did not hesitate to say to some persons with whom 
she was intimate, including Mrs. Better. To be sure, 
she had been informed as to the year of Mr. Tippen- 
gray’s birth, which, if correct, would make him forty- 
six ; but it was her private opinion that sixty would be 
a good deal nearer the mark. However, if the young 
child’s nurse should become an early widow, and be 
thrown upon her own resources, she, for one, would 

189 


THE SQUIRREL INN 


not withhold a helping hand. But she earnestly in- 
sisted that not a word she said on this subject should 
ever be breathed into another ear. 

When Ida Mayberry heard what Calthea had said 
about her and Mr. Tippengray^s age, she was very 
angry, and declared she would not go to the old 
thing’s wedding, which was to take place the next 
day in the Lethbury church. But, after thinking 
over the matter, she changed her mind, and concluded 
that at times like this we should all be pleasant and 
good-natured toward one another ; so she sat down 
and wrote a letter to Miss Calthea, which she sent to 
the expectant bride that very afternoon. The mis- 
sive ran thus : 

‘ ‘ My dear Miss Rose : I have seen so little of Mr. 
Beam in the last few days that I have had no opportu- 
nity to express to him some thanks which are due him 
from Mr. Tippengray and myself. I am therefore obliged 
to ask you, my dear Miss Rose, to give to him a message 
from me, which, as it is one of gratitude, you will be 
pleased to deliver. 

“ Not long ago, when Mr. Beam took occasion to tell me 
that he loved me and asked me to marry him, — I remem- 
ber now that it was on the very day that Mr. Fetter’s 
horse behaved so badly and, unfortunately for you, tipped 
you out of the tail end of the little cart, and made it nec- 
essary for you to give up both it and Mr. Tippengray to 
me, — he (Mr. Beam) was so good as to say that if I would 
agree to be his wife and still wished the instructive 
companionship of Mr. Tippengray, he would take that 
gentleman into his family as a tutor. Now this, as you 
will readily acknowledge, my dear Miss Rose, was very 
good in Mr. Beam, and in return I wish you to say to 
him, both from Mr. Tij^pengray and from me, that if 

190 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

there should ever be any position in our gift which he is 
capable of filling, all he has to do is to ask for it. 

“ Most sincerely yours, 

“ Ida Mayberry.” 

And the next day in church no face exjiressed a 
more delighted interest in the nuptial ceremonies 
than that of the pretty Miss Mayberry. 

It was late in N^ovember, and the weather was get- 
ting decidedly cool. There was a fire in the tap-room 
of the Squirrel Inn, and also one in the little parlor ; 
and by this, after supper, sat Mr. and Mrs. Fetter. 

The guests were all gone. Mr. and Mrs. Tippengray, 
who had had a quiet wedding in New York, were on 
their way to Cambridge, England, where the bride 
would spend a portion of the honeymoon in the higher 
studies there open to women, while Mrs. Cristie and 
Mr. Lodloe were passing happy days in the metropolis 
preparing for their marriage early in the new year. 
The Beams were in Florida, where, so Lanigan wrote, 
they had an idea of buying an orange grove, and 
where, so Calthea wrote, she would not live if they 
gave her a whole county. 

The familiar faces all being absent, and very few 
people dropping in from Lethbury or the surrounding 
neighborhood, the Squirrel Inn was lonely, and the 
hostess thereof did not hesitate to say so. As for the 
host, he had his books, his plans, and his hopes. He 
also had his regrets, which were useful in helping him 
to pass his time. 

What in the world,’^ asked Mrs. Fetter, regarding 
an object in her husband’s hands, “made you take 

191 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

down that miserahlCj dilapidated little squirrel from the 
sign-post ? You might as well have let him stay there 
all winter, and put up a new one in the spring.’^ 

‘‘This has been a most memorable year/’ replied 
her husband, “ and I wish to place this squirrel in his 
proper position on the calendar shelf of the tap-room 
before the storms and winds of winter have blown the 
fur from his body and every hair from his upturned 
tail. I have killed and prepared a fresh squirrel, and 
I will place him on the sign-post in a few days.” 

“ If you would let that one stay until he was a skin 
skeleton, he would have given x)eople a better idea 
of the way this year has turned out than he does now,” 
said Mrs. Fetter. 

“ How so ? ” he asked, looking at her in surprise. 

“Don’t we sit here stripped of every friendly voice 
she said. “Of course, it’s always more lonesome in 
the winter, but it’s never been so bad as this, for we 
haven’t even Calthea to fall back on. Things didn’t 
turn out as I expected them to, and I suppose they 
never will ; but it always was my opinion, and is yet, 
that nothing can go straight in such a crooked house. 
This very afternoon, as I was coming from the poul- 
try-yard, and saw Lanigan’s ladder still standing up 
against the window of his room, I couldn’t help think- 
ing that if a burglar got into that room he might sup- 
pose he was in the house ; but he’d soon find himself 
greatly mistaken, and even if he went over the roof to 
Mr. Lodloe’s room, all he could do would be to come 
down the tower stairs, and then he would find himself 
outside, just where he started from.” 

“That would suit me very well,” remarked Mr. 
Fetter. 


192 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

“ If this house had been built in a plain^ straight- 
forward way/’ his wife' continued, “ with a hall through 
the middle of it, and the rooms alike on both sides, 
then things might have happened in a straightfor- 
ward way, and not all mixed up, as they were here 
this summer. Nobody could tell who was going to 
marry who, and why they should do it, if they ever 
did.” 

Mr. Petter arose and, still holding the stuffed squir- 
rel in his hand, stood with his back to the fire. 

It strikes me, Susan,” said he, looking reflectively 
in front of him, that our lives are very seldom built 
with a hall through the middle and the rooms alike 
on both sides. I don’t think we’d like it if they were. 
They would be stupid and humdrum. The right sort 
of a life should have its ups and downs, its ins and 
outs, its different levels, its outside stairs and its inside 
stairs, its balconies, windows, and roofs of different 
periods and different styles. This is education. 
These things are the advantages that our lives get 
from the lives of others. 

^^Now, for myself, I like the place I live in to 
resemble my life and that of the people about me. 
And I am sure that nothing could be better suited to 
all that than the Squirrel Inn. 

All sorts of things come into our lives, and when 
a thing like Lanigan Beam comes into it, what could 
be better than to lodge it in a place where it can go 
no farther? and if something of a high order, something 
backed up by Matthew Yassar, but which is a little 
foreign and not altogether of our kind, how well to 
be able to put that in a noble and elevated position, 
where it can have every advantage and can go and 

193 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

come, without being naturalized or made a part of 
us. Think, too, how high excellence can be worthily 
lodged, with the comforts of the North and the beau- 
ties of the South, as in the case of Mrs. Cristie’s rooms ; 
and how blooded service is not forced into a garret, 
but is quartered in a manner which shows that the 
blood is recognized and the service ignored.” 

<^If I had known what she was when she came,” 
remarked Mrs. Fetter, I should have put her on the 
top floor.” 

Think, too,” continued the landlord, “of noble 
sentiments, high aspirations, and deep learning, 
lodged of their own free will— for it appears that 
there was no necessity for it— so near as to answer 
every need of social domesticity, and yet in a manner 
so free and apart as to allow undisturbed and undis- 
turbing reveries beneath the stars, and such other 
irregular manifestations of genius as are common to 
the gifted.” 

“Such as coming late to meals,” interpolated the 
lady. 

“ Think, too,” Mr. Fetter went on to say, speaking 
in a more earnest voice— “think, too, of a life or a 
house in which there is no place for a Calthea Kose, 
in which she cannot exist, and which, I am happy to 
say, she has always opposed and condemned.” 

Mrs. Fetter slightly yawned. 

“All that sounds very well,” she said, “and there 
may be truth in it ; but, after all, here we are alone 
by ourselves, and, so far as I can see, no chance of 
being less lonely next season ; for your rules keep out 
all common folks, and we can’t count on the people 
who were here this year coming again.” 

194 


THE SQUIRREL INN 

Mr. Fetter smiled. There is no reason to suppose/’ 
he said, “that next season we shall not be favored 
with the company of the Kockmores of Germantown.” 

And with that he walked away to place in its proper 
position on the shelf in the tap-room the squirrel of 
the past season. 


I 


195 


THE MERRY CHANTER 





THE MERRY CHANTER 


CHAPTER I 

MY CAREER IS ENDED 

F or two years Doris and I had been engaged to 
be married. The first of these years appeared 
to us about as long as any ordinary year, but the 
second seemed to stretch itself out to the length of 
fifteen or even eighteen months. There had been 
many delays and disappointments in that year. 

We were both young enough to wait and both old 
enough to know we ought to wait ; and so we waited. 
But, as we frequently admitted to ourselves, there 
was nothing particularly jolly in this condition of 
things. Every young man should have sufficient re- 
spect for himself to make him hesitate before entering 
into a matrimonial alliance in which he would have 
to be supported by his wife. This would have been 
the case had Doris and I married within those two 
years. 

I am by jirofession an analyzer of lava. Having 
been from my boyhood an enthusiastic student of 
mineralogy and geology, I gradually became con- 
vinced that there was no reason why precious metals 
and precious stones should not be found at spots on 

199 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


the earth where nature herself attended to the work- 
ing of her own mines ; that is to say^ that I can see 
no reason why a volcano should not exist at a spot 
where there were valuable mineral deposits j and this 
being the case, there is no reason why those deposits 
should not be thrown out during eruptions in a melted 
form, or unmelted and mixed with the ordinary 
lava. 

Hoping to find proof of the correctness of my theory, 
I have analyzed lava from a great many volcanoes. I 
have not been able to afford to travel much, but speci- 
mens have been sent to me from various parts of the 
world. My attention was particularly turned to ex- 
tinct volcanoes ; for should I find traces of precious 
deposits in the lava of one of these, not only could its 
old lava beds be worked, but by artificial means erup- 
tions of a minor order might be produced, and fresher 
and possibly richer material might be thrown out. 

But I had not yet received any specimen of lava 
which encouraged me to begin workings in the vicin- 
ity in which it was found. 

My theories met with little favor from other scien- 
tists, but this did not discourage me. Should success 
come it would be very great. 

Doris had expectations which she sometimes thought 
might reasonably be considered great ones, but her 
actual income was small. She had now no immediate 
family, and for some years lived with what she called 
^daw kin.’’ She was of a most independent turn of 
mind, and being of age could do what she pleased 
with her own whenever it should come to her. 

My own income was extremely limited, and what 
my actual necessities allowed me to spare from it was 

200 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


devoted to the ccllection of the specimens on the study 
of which I based the hopes of my fortunes. 

In regard to our future alliance, Doris depended 
mainly upon her expectations, and she did not hesi- 
tate, upon occasion, frankly and plainly to tell me so. 
Naturally I objected to such dependence, and anx- 
iously looked forward to the day when a little lump of 
lava might open before me a golden future which I 
might honorably ask any woman to share. But I do 
not believe that anything I said upon this subject in- 
fluenced the ideas of Doris. 

The lady of my love was a handsome girl, quick and 
active of mind and body, nearly always of a lively 
mood, and sometimes decidedly gay. She had seen a 
good deal of the world and the people in it, and was 
^^up,” as she put it, in a great many things. More- 
over, she declared that she had ^^a heart for any fate.’’ 
It has sometimes occurred to me that this remark 
would better be deferred until the heart and the fate 
have had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with 
each other. 

We lived not far apart in a New England town, and 
calling upon her, one evening, I was surprised to find 
the lively Doris in tears. Her tears were not violent, 
however, and she quickly dried them f and, without 
waiting for any inquiries on my part, she informed 
me of the cause of her trouble. 

^^The Merry Chanter has come in,” she said. 

^^Come in ! ” I ejaculated. 

^^Yes,” she answered, and that is not the worst of 
it j it has been in a long time.” 

I knew all about the Merry Chanter. This was a 
ship. It was her ship which was to come in. Years 

201 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


ago this ship had been freighted with the ventures of 
her family, and had sailed for far-off seas. The re- 
sults of those ventures, together with the ship itself, 
now belonged to Doris. They were her expectations. 

^^But why does this grieve you?’’ I asked. ^^Why 
do you say that the coming of the ship, to which you 
have been looking forward with so much ardor, is not 
the worst of it? ” 

Because it isn’t,” she answered. ^^The rest is a 
great deal worse. The whole affair is a doleful failure. 
I had a letter to-day from Mooseley, a little town on 
the sea- coast. The Merry Chanter came back there 
three years ago with nothing in it. What has be- 
come of what it carried out, or what it ought to have 
brought back, nobody seems to know. The captain 
and the crew left it the day after its arrival at Moose- 
ley. Why they went away, or what they took with 
them, I have not heard ; but a man named Asa Cant- 
ling writes me that the Merry Chanter has been lying 
at his wharf for three years ; that he wants to be paid 
the wharfage that is due him j and that for a long 
time he has been trying to find out to whom the ship 
belongs. At last he has discovered that I am the sole 
owner, and he sends to me his bill for wharfage, stat- 
ing that he believes it now amounts to more than the 
vessel is worth.” 

^^Absurd!” I cried. ^^Any vessel must be worth 
more than its wharfage rates for three years. This 
man must be imposing upon you.” 

Doris did not answer. She was looking drearily 
out of the window at the moon-lighted landscape. 
Her heart and her fate had come together, and they 
did not appear to suit each other. 

202 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


I sat silent also, reflecting. I looked at the bill 
which she had handed to me, and then I reflected 
again, gazing ont of the window at the moon-lighted 
landscape. 

It so happened that I then had on hand a sum of 
money equal to the amount of this bill, which amount 
was made up not only of wharfage rates, but of other 
exj)enses connected with the long stay of the vessel at 
Asa Cantling’s wharf. 

My little store of money was the result of months 
of saving and a good deal of personal self-denial. 
Every cent of it had its mission in one part of the 
world or another. It was intended solely to carry 
on the work of my life, my battle for fortune. It was 
to show me, in a wider and more thorough manner 
than had ever been possible before, what chance there 
was for my finding the key which should unlock for 
me the treasures in the storehouse of the earth. 

I thought for a few minutes longer, and then I said, 
Doris, if you should pay this bill and redeem the 
vessel, what good would you gain?” 

She turned quickly toward me. should gain a 
great deal of good,” she said. ‘Mn the first place, I 
should be relieved of a soul-chilling debt. Isn’t that 
a good? And of a debt, too, which grows heavier 
every day. Mr. Cantling writes that it will be diffi- 
cult to sell the ship, for it is not the sort that the 
people thereabout want. And if he breaks it up he 
will not get half the amount of his bill. And so there 
it must stay, piling wharfage on wharfage, and all 
sorts of other expenses, on those that have gone before, 
until I become the leading woman bankrupt of the 
world.” 


203 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


“Blit if you paid the money and took the ship/’ I 
asked, “what would you do with it?” 

“I know exactly what I would do with it,” said 
Doris. “It is my inheritance, and I would take that 
ship and make our fortunes. I would begin in a 
humble way, just as people begin in other businesses. 
I would' carry hay, codfish, ice, anything, from one 
port to another. And when I had made a little 
money in this way, I would sail away to the Orient, 
and come back loaded with rich stuffs and spices.” 

“Did the people who sailed the ship before do 
that ? ” I asked. 

“I have not the slightest doubt of it,” she answered ; 
“ and they ran away with the proceeds. I do not 
know that you can feel as I do,” she continued. “The 
Merry Chanter is mine. It is my all. For years I 
have looked forward to what it might bring me. It 
has brought me nothing but a debt, but I feel that it 
can be made to do better than that, and my soul is on 
fire to make it do better.” 

It is not difficult to agree with a girl who looks as 
this one looked and who speaks as this one spoke. 

“Doris,” I exclaimed, “if you go into that sort of 
thing I go with you ! I will set the Merry Chanter 
free.” 

“How can you do it?” she cried. 

“Doris,” I said, “hear me. Let us be cool and prac- 
tical.” 

“I think neither of us is very cool,” she said, “and 
perhaps not very practical. But go on.” 

“I can pay this bill,” I said, “but in doing it I shall 
abandon all hope of continuing what I have chosen as 
my life-work ; the career which I have marked out 

204 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


for myself will be ended. Would you advise me to 
do this ? And if I did it would you marry me now, 
with nothing to rely upon but our little ineomes and 
what we could make from your ship? Now, do not 
be hasty. Think seriously, and tell me what you 
would advise me to do.” 

She answered instantly, ^^Take me, and the Merry 
Chanter P 

I gave up my career. 


205 


CHAPTER II 

SHE IS HE, AND IT IS CUES 

A MAN and wife stood upon Asa Cantling’s wharf at 
Mooseley, gazing with wide-open eyes at the ilferry 
Chanter. All claims had been paid. The receipt was 
in my pocket. 

will not look upon the ship/’ Doris had said, 
until it is truly ours— until every taint of debt shall 
have been wiped away.” 

How long, how high, how big it was ! It had two 
towering masts. As I gazed upon it my heart swelled. 
It was a career ! 

Doris suddenly seized me by the hand. ^^Come,” 
she said, ^There he is ! ” 

^^Who?” I exclaimed. 

“The Merry Chanter himself!” she cried, running 
with me toward the bow of the vessel, which on our 
first approach had been concealed from us by a pile of 
barrels. 

We went upon the narrow space between the barrels 
and the wharf, and stood close to the Merry Chanter, 
the wooden figurehead which gave the name to the 
ship. 

He was a stalwart fellow eight feet high, and so 

206 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


firmly fastened to the bow of the vessel that the 
waves of the sea and the winds of the air had never 
been able to move him. But long voyages in storms, 
in glowing heat, or in icy spray had had an effect on 
his physical organization. When young he had prob- 
ably been of pleasing colors, but now every trace of 
paint had vanished ; even the mahogany brownness of 
his nose and cheeks was probably due to the natural 
hue of the wood of which his head was formed. The 
rest of him was of a uniform weather-beaten grayness. 

The rest of him must be understood to mean what 
remained of him ; the whole of his original self was 
not there. His head was thrown back ; his long hair 
hung upon his shoulders j and his mouth was open, as 
if in the act of trolling some jolly sea song. His 
right arm had been stretched out after the manner of 
one who is moved by the spirit of the words he sings, 
but the greater part of that arm was now gone. Some 
wild, rollicking wave had rushed to meet him, taken 
him by the hand, and gone off with his arm. 

His other arm held a short cloak about him and still 
remained entire, but he had no feet, and one of his 
knees had been knocked away ; but still he stood up, 
bold and stout, chanting his brave roundelays, which 
one could hear only when waves were tossing or winds 
roaring. What if his nose were split, his chin dented, 
and his beard broken ! The spirit of the Merry Chanter 
was still there. 

How many a wave-crest must have swashed into 
that open mouth as the chanter boldly chanted and 
the ship plunged ! But how merrily he had risen, 
all dripping, and had sung on ! 

The eyes of Doris were glowing as she looked upon 

207 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


him. shall lead us to fortune/’ she said, taking 

my hand. ^^Shall he not? ” 

The spirit of the chanter and of Doris was upon 
me. ^Tndeed he shall ! ” I answered warmly. 

Asa Cantling, or, as he was called in the village. 
Captain Asa, now came upon the wharf and asked us 
if we would like to go on board. Like to ! Of course 
we would ! To go on board was the dominant pur- 
pose of our souls. 

Captain Asa was an oldish man, but reaching up to 
some iron bars which projected from the vessel, he 
clambered up her side with the monkey-like agility 
which belongs to a sailor. In a few minutes he low- 
ered a ladder with a hand-rail, by which Doris and I 
went on board. 

She’s a good schooner yet,” said Captain Asa, as 
with swelling hearts we stood upon our deck. She’s 
too big for us, but she’s got good timbers in her ; an’ if 
you’ll have her towed to Hew Bedford, or Gloucester, 
or some such port, I don’t doubt you’d get more for 
her than you’ve paid.” 

I looked at Doris. Her eyes flashed and her nos- 
trils dilated, but she made no answer to these cold- 
blooded words. We walked the length of our deck. 
How long it was ! Captain Asa pointed out the vari- 
ous objects of interest as we passed them— windlass, 
galley, capstan, wheel ; all nautical, real, and ours ! 

^T’ve kept the hatches down,” said Captain Asa, 
^^skylights shut, an’ everything stowed away ship- 
shape. I’d ask you to go below, but we must come 
again for that.” 

Almost with one voice we besought the captain not 
to let us keep him a moment from his dinner. We 

208 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


would remain on board a little longer. We were not 
ready for our dinner. We watched him as he went 
down the ladder and into the village, and then we sat 
down on a double-pointed log that was bolted to the 
deck. The bulwarks were so high that we could not 
be seen. 

We did not sit long. Up sprang Doris. ^^Let us go 
below ! ’’ she cried. I followed her, and after entering 
the cook’s galley by mistake, we found the door at the 
head of the stairs which led below, and hurried down. 

The air below was close, and the ship’s smells were 
of an old and seasoned sort ; but everything was ex- 
citingly interesting. We ran from one end to the 
other of this lower deck. We looked into what must 
have been the captain’s cabin. It was cosey to an ex- 
treme that made Doris clap her hands. We looked 

» 

into the sailors’ bunks. We looked at the great masts 
which came from below and went up above— our 
masts ! 

We examined everything forward, amidships, and 
aft, and then I lifted a hatch, and we looked down 
into the dark depths of the hold. We could not see 
much, and did not dare to descend without a light ; 
but the cool air which came up to us smelled as if all 
the odors of Araby and the spicy East had been tarred 
and salted and stowed away down there. 

When' at last we ascended to the deck, Doris stood 
still and looked about her. Her face and eyes shone 
with a happy glow. Stretching out her right arm, she 
exclaimed: ^^All hail to our Merry Chanter! We 
shall sail in him to the sunny seas of the south, and, if 
we feel like it, steer him into the frozen mysteries 
of the north. He shall give us fortune, and, what is 

209 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


better still, we shall go with him wh.erever he goes, 
getting all manner of fun and delight out of him while 
he is lifting us to opulence. And now, I think it must 
be a good deal past our dinner-time, and we’d better 
go and see about it.” 

As we walked through the village to the little hotel 
where we had taken lodgings, two ideas revolved 
themselves in my mind. The first of these I men- 
tioned to my wife. 

‘^Doris,” said I, ^^as we own a ship, and intend to 
sail on it, we should be more nautical, at least in our 
speech. You should not speak of a ship as ^he’; 
^she’ is the proper expression.” 

don’t agree with you,” said Doris. think it 
is all nonsense calling ships She’ without regard to 
their real gender. It is all very well to call the Sarah 
Penrose She,’ or the Alice^ or the Mary — pointing 
to fishing- vessels in the little harbor, — ^^but when you 
speak of the Royal George or the Emperor William as 
She’ it is silly and absurd. The Merry Chanter is 
a man. He gave his manly name to our ship. Our 
ship is not a female.” 

^^But,” said I, every sailor calls his ship She.’ It 
is tradition, it is custom ; in fact, it has become law.” 

^Ht is all stuff and nonsense,” she said. don’t 
care a snap for such tradition and such law ! Sailors 
ought to have learned better by this time.” 

^^But you don’t want to be laughed at, do you?” I 
asked. 

^^Ho, I don’t,” she answered promptly. We cannot 
have proper authority in our ship if we are laughed 
at, and I will do this : I will consent to call the ship 
St,’ but I will never consent to call it She.’ ” 

210 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


And with these words we entered the hotel. 

The other idea which entered my mind was a more 
important one. I had noticed, especially when we 
were on board the ship, that Doris was taking the 
lead in everything. It was she who had declared 
what we should do, where we should go, that one 
thing should be done or another left undone. Now, 
this was all wrong. It was a blow at the just consti- 
tution of matrimony. Of course, in these early days 
of our married life I was glad to let my bride talk 
and plan as she pleased ; but she was going too far. 
If this thing were allowed to continue it would be- 
come a habit. 

What step I should take to nip in the bud this 
little weed which might grow until it overshadowed 
our happiness I could not immediately determine. It 
must be a quick, vigorous, and decided step. It must 
settle the matter once and for all time. Of course I 
would be tender, but I must be firm. As soon as 
possible I would decide what the step should be. 

That afternoon we went to see Captain Asa, to ask 
him what sort of marine traffic he thought we would 
better begin with. 

^^You see,’^ said Doris, ^^we want to engage in some 
coastwise trading, in order that our profits may enable 
us to set out upon longer and more important voy- 
ages.’^ 

^^That is the state of the case,’^ said I. “My wife 
agrees with me entirely.’’ 

“Now, what shall we load with first,” said Doris, 
“hay, fish, or ice ? ” 

Captain Asa smiled. “As for fish,” he said, “our 
own boats bring in all the fish that can be turned into 

211 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


money in this town, an’ if we send away any, they’ve 
got to get to market while they are fresh, an’ it may 
be the railroad’ll get ’em there quicker. An’ as for 
hay, we don’t get much hay from along the coast— that 
is, if we want the cattle to eat it. That generally 
comes from the West, by rail. Ice? Well, this isn’t 
the season to ship ice.” 

^^But there must be other things,” said Doris, anx- 
iously. 

^^Yes,” said the captain, ^There is. [N'ow, I’ll tell 
you what wouldn’t be a bad thing. Sail your vessel 
up to Boston an’ get a load of flour. You can afford 
to bring it down cheaper than the railroad can. 
There’d be some took in this town. I’d take a barrel. 
An’ a good deal might be sold along the coast if you 
put it cheap enough. Then, again, when you get to 
Boston you may have the good luck to sell your 
vessel.” 

^^The Merry Chanter is not to be sold,” said Doris, 
emphatically. 

^^All right,” said the captain. ^^That point sha’n’t 
be touched upon ag’in. Well, if you’re goin’ to set 
out on trading v’yages, you’ll want a crew.” 

^Wes,” said I, ^^of course we shall want a crew.” 

^^A crew costs a good deal, doesn’t it? ” asked Doris. 

^^That depends,” said Captain Asa, ^^on the kind of 
crew you get. Now, an out-and-out crew for that 
schooner—” 

^^But we don’t want an out-and-out crew,” inter- 
rupted Doris, ^^and if you tell us what such a crew 
will cost it will simply drive us stark mad, and the 
whole thing will come to an end.” 

^A^ou must understand, captain,” I said, ^That we 

212 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


wish to make a very quiet and inexpensive beginning. 
We can spend but little money at first, and cannot 
afford to employ large bodies of men.^’ 

^Tt is the management of sails that occupies a good 
deal of the time of a crew, isn’t it? ” asked Doris. 

^^Yes,” answered the captain, “ that’s a good part 
of it.” 

^^AYell, then,” continued Doris, ^^my idea is this : 
we’ll sail the Merry Chanter at first with as few sails 
as possible, and then we need only have enough men 
to work those sails.” 

^^All right!” said the captain. Things can often 
be done one way as well as another, if you have a 
mind to. There’s many a good ship been sailed short- 
handed. You can’t make quick voyages that way j 
but, as you are the owners, that’s your business.” 

We both agreed that we had no intention at present 
of making the Merry Chanter a greyhound of the sea 5 
and, after some further consideration of the subject. 
Captain Asa said he would talk to some people in the 
town and see what he could do toward getting us a 
crew of the sort we wanted. 


213 


CHAPTER III 


WE SHIP A CHEW 

Early the next morning an elderly personage intro- 
duced himself as Captain Timon Mucher. He was a 
man of medium height, gray hairs, and a little bowed 
by years ; but he had sharp, bright eyes, and a general 
air of being able to jump about a yard from the floor. 
His storm-beaten features were infused with a modest 
kindliness which instantly attracted Doris and me. 

^^Cap’n Cantliny^ said he, ^^told me that you’re 
lookin’ for a crew for that schooner o’ yourn. Now, 
sir, if you’re agreeable, I’d like to go in her as skipper. 
Everybody in this town knows what sort o’ a skipper 
I am, and they’ll tell you. I did think I’d about give 
up navigatin’, but when I heerd yesterday that that 
schooner that’s been lying so long at Cantlin’s wharf 
was goin’ to sea, there come over me the same kind of 
hanker for outside rollin’ and pitchin’ that I used to 
have when I happened to be ashore without a shij). 
I’ve got a good cat-rigged fishin’-boat, and I go out in 
her every day that’s flt ; and there is times when I 
get a good deal of outside pitchin’ and rollin’. But 
pitchin’ and rollin’ in a cat-boat isn’t what a man 
that’s been brought up to the sea lays awake more’n 
half an hour and hankers for. If there hadn’t been 


214 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


no schooner goin’ to sail from this port and wantin^ 
hands, I guess I’d stuck pretty quiet to the cat-boat ; 
but now there is a schooner sailin’ from here and 
wantin’ hands, I’d like to go in her as skipper.” 

Doris and I looked at each other, and then at the 
old man. Instinctively we both stretched out our 
hands to him. He was captain of the Merry Chanter, 

It was plain enough that Captain Timon Mucher 
was delighted with our decision. 

^^Well, now,” said he, ^4t just tickles me to sail with 
owners like you, who knows your own minds and set- 
tles a bargain as quick as a squall tips over a sailboat 
full of young fellers from town.” 

I did not like to break in on the old man’s satisfac- 
tion, but I felt bound to state that the bargain was 
not yet completed. 

Bother bargains ! ” said Doris. We’re going to 
have the captain anyway ! Didn’t we say so? ” 

^^But it is possible,” said I, ^^that he may expect a 
— a salary larger than we can afford to pay.” 

^^As to that,” said Captain Timon, ^^there needn’t 
be no words about that ; I’ll go sheers with you, if you 
like.” 

This was reasonable, and pleased the owners. We 
were very willing to give him part of the profits. 

^^What share would you require? ” I asked. 

^^Well,” said he, ^^we can divide what we make 
each v’yage into six parts, and I’ll take one of ’em. 
Does that strike you as fair ? ” 

It struck us as quite fair. 

We now had a long talk with our captain, and got 
all sorts of information. At length he left us ; but in 
about an hour he, with CaiDtain Asa, came just as we 

215 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


were about to start out for the wharf, and brought 
with them three elderly men, evidently of the seafar- 
ing class. These were presented to us as Captain Ke- 
tire Garnish, Captain Jabez Teel, and Captain Cyrus 
Bodship. 

The three stranger captains gravely came forward 
and shook hands with us. As I have said, they were 
all elderly men ; the youngest-looking of them. Cap- 
tain Cyrus Bodship, must have been sixty. Strange 
to say, my wife and I were both struck by a certain 
similarity in these men, a sort of family likeness. 
This must have been due to the fact, Doris after- 
ward remarked, that they were all sons of Mother 
Ocean, for, in fact, they were not at all alike. Cap- 
tain Garnish was large and tall. Captain Teel was of 
a sparish figure, while Captain Cyrus Bodship was 
short, and inclined to be stout. 

In one respect they were alike : each wore a very 
large and stiffiy starched shirt-bosom with a black 
silk neckerchief, and each one looked uncomfortable 
in his suit of Sunday clothes. In this respect Captain 
Cyrus Bodship had a slight advantage over his com- 
panions, for he had on a pair of black velvet slippers 
embroidered with red. 

^^These gentlemen,’^ said Captain Asa, ‘^would like 
to ship as your crew.’’ 

Doris and I could not help smiling. ^^Crew?” said 
I. thought they were all captains.” 

^^So they are, so they are,” said Captain Asa. ^^But 
they can speak for themselves.” 

We now all seated ourselves in the little parlor, 
and Captain Garnish, without any hesitation, began 
to speak for himself : 


216 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


for me, I’m a captain if ever anybody was one. 
Since my thirty-second year I’ve been skipper on one 
craft or another till four years ago last April I settled 
down here and took to fishin’. That’s my history. 
When I heard that Cap’n Timon, here, was goin’ to be 
skipper of your schooner I says to myself : ^ I’d like 
to sail with him. There ain’t nothin’ about a ship I 
don’t know j there ain’t nothin’ about a ship I can’t 
do. I’d rather go to sea than fish, and I’m ready to 
sign the papers.’ ” 

^^All that’s about the same with me,” said Captain 
Jabez Teel ; ^^only I didn’t get to be captain till I 
was thirty- eight, and I came here nigh on to five 
years ago. Otherwise Cap’n Garnish and me is in the 
same boat, and I’m ready to sign papers.” 

Captain Cyrus sat silent a moment with a jolly sort 
of grin on his face. ^G’ve been try in’ to think what 
year it was I was fust made captain, but it’s too fur 
back ; I can’t put my finger on it. As for other par- 
tic’lars, I’m pretty much in the wake of Cap’n Garnish 
and Cap’n Teel, here. Perhaps I’m a good ways 
astern, but I’m younger than they is, and may over- 
haul ’em yit. I’m ready to sign papers.” 

The situation was interesting and amusing. “Do 
you mean to say,” I asked, “that you three will make 
a sufficient crew for our vessel ? ” 

Captain Timon immediately spoke up : “Yes, sir. 
They are all the crew I want. With them three I’ll 
sail your schooner, and there won’t be no complaint. 
Yes, sir ; that’s what I say.” 

Engaging three old men as our crew seemed to ns 
a serious matter, and I asked Captain Asa to step 
with me into a back room. Doris followed. 

217 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


you really think/’ I asked the captain, ^That 
these three men can work our ship ? ” 

course they can do it/’ said he. ^‘Each one of 
’em is worth three ordinary seamen ; they’ve got heads 
on ’em, they has ! An’ they’re as lively as old cats, 
besides. Kow, there’s Cap’n Garnish. He’s sailed 
vessels on every sea on this globe. He’s the man that 
run his vessel— a three-masted schooner she was— from 
the Straits of Malacca to Madras, nigh on to fifteen 
hundred miles, on one tack with a stiff nor’easter, 
an’ a hole in her starboard quarter as big as that 
table. There wa’n’t no time to have his ship docked 
if he wanted to save his cargo, an’ a hole like that 
couldn’t be patched up by him an’ his crew. An’ so 
twenty minutes after he was run into he set every 
inch of canvas there was a spar for, an’ drove her 
right slam across the Bay of Bengal, with her lee scup- 
pers mostly takin’ in water, but her weather quarter 
with the hole in it high an’ dry. When he came into 
port at Madras they wouldn’t believe that he’d raced 
across the bay with his ship stove in like that.” 

Doris had listened with admiration. ^^But could he 
do that now'? ” she asked. 

^^Do it?” said Captain Asa. ^^Of course he could! 
He could do it with a hole twice as big 1 An’ there’s 
Cap’n Teel,” he continued. ^^He was friz up two years 
in Melville Straits when he was commandin’ of a 
whaler j an’, more’n that, he has had his ships wrecked 
under him eleven times, which is four more than any- 
body in this State can say ; an’ he an’ his crew came 
out all right every time, either trampin’ off on shore 
or bein’ picked up. What he hasn’t been through 
isn’t worth goin’ through 1 

218 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


An’ there’s Cap’n Cyrus. 'Now, Cap’n Cyrus is the 
luckiest seaman that ever sat on a thwart. He never 
had nothin’ happen to him. He’d always run into his 
home port with the same old grin that he set sail with. 
Once, bound to Australia, — I think it was in ’59,— he 
had his three topgallant masts bio wed away by a 
typhoon. Now, Cap’n Cyrus said to himself that he 
guessed he’d got it this time, an’ that he’d be long 
overdue at port, for he didn’t carry no spare spars 
along, havin’ got out o’ the way of carryin’ ’em on 
account of his bein’ so lucky an’ never havin’ no 
need of ’em ; but this didn’t make him feel grumpy, 
for, as he said to himself, a little change would do 
him good. But— would you believe it?— when he an- 
chored at an island to take in fresh water, he went on 
shore himself, an’ climbin’ a little hill, he saw, on the 
other side of the island, another ship takin’ in water, 
an’ the skipper was his wife’s cousin, Andrew Tinkey, 
with plenty of spare spars aboard ; an’ Cap’n Cyrus’s 
vessel bein’ rigged up in double-quick time by both 
crews, she got into port a week before she was looked 
out for. I tell you what it is, a owner has got to 
hunt a long while before he finds three such cap’ns as 
them ! ” 

In spite of my admiration of these noble fellows, I 
could not help being practical. I could not believe 
that they would be able to do everything. But when 
I asked if some younger persons would not be needed 
on the ship. Captain Asa answered very decidedly : 
^‘No, sir ; no young fellows nor boys won’t be needed. 
If you shipped a bigger crew the profits would have 
to be cut up into smaller sheers, and the cap’ns 
wouldn’t stand that.” 


219 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


^^But suppose we don’t make any profits?” said 
Doris. ^^Tliat would be a great loss to these brave 
old sailors.” 

^^Oh, they won’t lose nothin’/’ said Captain Asa. 

They’ve all got good houses, an’ they rent ’em out 
for the summer to city people. I’ve got the lettin’ of 
them. They’re all widowers, from two to three times 
over, except Cap’n Cyrus, an’ his wife has been livin’ 
for nigh on to five year at West Imbury, so he’s as free 
as a sandpiper, an’ no funeral in the family, nuther.” 

Again my practical mind asserted itself. ^^Look 
you, captain,” said I. ^^Is it expected that we are to 
furnish provisions for the crew as well as ourselves, 
and to supply money for the purchase of the cargo 
when we get to Boston? If that is the case, I think 
that two sixths of the profits is but a poor return.” 

^^Oh, bother the profits,” cried Doris. ^^I want to 
hoist anchor and put to sea ! ” 

Captain Asa looked at her admiringly. You’re 
just like them cap’ns,” said he. ‘^They’re all hankerin’ 
to feel the ship heave an’ to smell bilge-water. But 
what you say is worth considerin’, sir. I’ll go an’ 
speak to ’em about it.” 

In a few minutes he returned and stated that the 
captains allowed that what I said had sense in it, and 
that they all agreed to chip in and each pay one sixth 
of expenses for stores and cargo. 

“Good ! ” cried Doris. “Now everything is settled, 
and let us be on board and away.” 

But there was a good deal to be done before we 
could be “on board and away.” The captains, how- 
ever, were as anxious as Doris to be awav, and lost no 
time in the necessary preparations. They knew just 

220 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


what to do and what to get, and naturally we left 
everything to them. 

But the whole of the little town took an interest in 
the fitting out of the Merry Chanter, the stout old ship 
that had lain so long at Cantling’s wharf. Doris re- 
eeived much advice and some small presents from the 
women, while the men gave a good deal of voluntary 
service which we well knew was all for the sake of 
their old mates, the four captains. 

Some things I could not help thinking of, and stand- 
ing by Captain Timon on the wharf, I asked him if a 
wooden ship lying so long in the water did not accu- 
mulate a great many barnacles on her side, which 
would impede her sailing. 

A shade of uneasiness passed over the face of the 
old man. ^^Of course,” said he, ^^when a vessel’s been 
tied up for two or three years in salt water it’s no 
more’n nat’ral that she’d have barnacles on. Natur’ 
is natur’, an’ there’s no gettin’ round it, and of course 
if the barnacles was cleaned off her she’d make more 
knots an hour than she would with ’em on her. But 
I tell you what it is, sir, if you begin with barnacles 
there’s no tellin’ how fur you’ll have to go on, nor 
where you’ll stop. Why, sir, if she was my ship, an’ 
things was as they is, I wouldn’t do as much as to 
paint the door of that galley. If you begin anywhere, 
barnacles or paint, you’re bound to go on, an’ there’d 
be no v’yage made in that ship this year. It would 
be like old Tom Duffin of Soap’s Neck. Tom was 
about as well off as anybody in these parts. He had 
a good house an’ a big sloop -rigged fishin’-boat. She 
wa’n’t as fast as some, but she was so big and safe- 
lookin’ that the city people who came down here 

221 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


always wanted to go sailin^ with Tom, an’ he charged 
’em high, he did, for in some ways he wa’n’t no fool. 
But bein’ with these fine people so much kinder 
twisted Tom’s head, an’ one day he went off an’ 
bought himself a new shiny black silk hat. That was 
Tom’s tuimin’-p’int. With that hat on his head, his 
Sunday clothes, which ought to have lasted him all 
his life, wa’n’t good enough, an’ he got new ones. 
Then his wife’s clothes wa’n’t good enough to go 
along with them, an’ she got new ones. Then the 
children’s clothes wa’n’t good enough to go along with 
them, an’ they got new ones. An’ then his furnitur’ 
wa’n’t good enough to go along with all them fine 
clothes, and new had to be got. And that made the 
house look mean, an’ Tom set to work to build a new 
one. There ain’t no use carryin’ the story all along, 
but Tom went straight from that new silk hat to the 
Bremport poorhouse, where he is now 5 and his wife’s 
a nurse in the chronic ward, an’ his children is out in 
service in Boston. Now, sir, I look upon them barna- 
cles as just the same as that black hat. If you begin 
on them you may not bring up at the poorhouse, but 
there’s no knowin’ where you will bring up. The 
only thing anybody can know is that there will be no 
v’yage this year.” 

I could readily understand Captain Timon’s mean- 
ing and his anxiety to start on our voyage. If we 
undertook to put the Merry Chanter into good repair 
the chances of those four old captains feeling the 
heave of the seas and smelling bilge-water would be 
small indeed. 

^^From what you say I suppose you can sail the 
ship, barnacles or no barnacles,” I said. 

222 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


^^Sail her!’^ exclaimed he. “Just you wait and 
see ! An’ the best thing we can do is to hurry up her 
stores and get sail on her. The longer she lies here 
the more barnacles she’ll get.” 

When I repeated this conversation to Doris she de- 
clared that Captain Timon was exactly right. “We 
have no money to bedeck and adorn the Merry 
Chanter she said, “and if we had I wouldn’t do it. 
If we got her all into sleek and shiny shipshape, I 
suppose we’d have to have a regular shipshape crew, 
and I wouldn’t have that for the world. Let us get 
on board with our four lively old captains and sail 
away before anything turns up which will positively 
have to be done.” 


223 


CHAPTER IV 


THE MERRY CHANTER SETS SAIL 

As soon as possible Doris and I took possession of our 
quarters on the Merry Chanter. We occupied the 
captain’s cabin, and our good skipper bunked for- 
ward with the crew. 

^Hf they was common seamen,” said he, wouldn’t 
do it; but as they’re all captains as well as me, I 
don’t mind.” 

While busily engaged in arranging our cabin, one 
morning, we were informed that some one wanted to 
speak with us, and we went on deck. There we found 
a person whom for some days we had noticed walking 
up and down on the wharf, and showing an evident 
interest in our ship and our preparations. He was a 
fresh-looking, smooth-faced young man, over thirty 
perhaps, who stood up very erect, and whose general 
air indicated that he was one who, having found out 
what was good and what was bad in this world, had 
been content to act upon his knowledge, but at the 
same time to give himself no airs of superiority to 
other people who had not found out what he knew. 
This was a good deal for anybody’s air to indicate, 
but Doris told me afterward that it was what she 
thought this man’s air indicated. His manner of 

224 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


speaking to ns was at tke same time independent and 
respectful. 

Would it suit you/^ he said^ ^^to take me on board 
your ship as a passenger ^ ’’ 

We were somewhat surprised. Where do you 
wish to go ? I asked. 

have been told that you sail for Boston/^ said he. 

I replied that Boston was our destination. 

^Wery good/’ said he. ^^Then I wish to go to 
Boston.” 

^^But, sir/’ said Doris, ^^you can go a great deal 
quicker by train, you know.” 

do not wish to travel by land,” he said. wish 
to sail by sea. I do not care very much to be in 
Boston, but I wish to go there on a ship.” 

^^Are you a sailor?” I asked. 

^^No, sir,” he said ,* am a butcher. For four 
years and a half I have carried on butchering in this 
neighborhood. You can inquire of anybody as to my 
character. I do not wish to butcher any more, at 
least for the present. I have saved some money, and 
I intend to travel, and it struck me that I’d rather 
begin my travels on your ship than in any other way. 
I do not wish to work, but to pay my passage. Of 
course, if there’s a wreck, or a man overboard, or the 
ship takes fire, I’m willin’ to do my part as man to 
man. But otherways what I want is to pay my way, 
and to be beholden to no man, nor to have him be- 
holden to me, exceptin’ in such things as are under- 
stood to be owed by man to man.” 

We asked for a little time for consideration, and 
retired to the cabin, whither we summoned Captain 
Timon. 


225 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


speaks us fair/^ said Doris. think he would 
make a good passenger.’^ 

Captain Timon thought so too. ^^He’s a very re- 
spectable young man/’ said he ; ^^straightforward an’ 
honest, an’ means what he says. If he wants to get 
the worth of his money travellin’, I guess he knows 
as well as we do that he can get it on board this 
schooner ; an’ the money he pays will be somethin’ 
sure to count on.” 

^^What shall we charge him?” asked Doris. 

^^Well,” said Captain Timon, ^Tf you make it some- 
thin’ that can be divided even into six parts I’ll be 
satisfied, an’ I know the others will.” 

I then made a suggestion based upon the ordinary 
fare to Boston, which, after some modification, was 
agreed to ; and I went on deck to inform the young 
man that for so much money we would take him as 
X)assenger to Boston. 

The butcher instantly agreed to my terms, con- 
sented to bunk forward with the crew, and went 
ashore to fetch his baggage. In two or three hours 
he returned, bringing his effects in a cart. They 
consisted of a large trunk, a small trunk, a square, 
leather-covered box, two long oblong boxes, a package 
wrapped in an oilskin cloth, and a market-basket, the 
cover of which being slightly raised, I saw to be full of 
boots and shoes. Besides these, he carried in his hand 
a cage containing a sandpiper, with one wing care- 
fully bandaged to its body. 

^^It looks like a good deal of baggage,” he said to 
me, ^^just for a trip to Boston. But it isn’t only to 
Boston that I want to go. I’ve set out to travel just 
as long as I can keep it up. I’ve sold my horse and 

226 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


wagon, and what’s here is all the property I have, and 
wherever I go I take it with me. As for this bird,” 
he said, saw him on the beach with a broken wing, 
and I caught him, and now I’m try in’ to cure him 
up. When animals is too small to butcher, I’m fond 
of ’em.” 

And thereupon, assisted by his carter, he carried 
his property below. 

Doris and I were getting very impatient to start on 
our voyage, but there seemed to be no end of delays, 
the principal of which was connected with the ship- 
ment of stones — cobblestones of varied sizes. As the 
Merry Chanter could ship no cargo at Mooseley, for the 
reason that there was nothing there to ship, it was 
necessary that she should go to Boston in ballast, and 
these stones were her ballast. 

^^They are filling it up from one end to the other ! ” 
cried Doris. ^^I never saw anything like it ! This 
waiting for bread and getting stones is more than I 
counted on. Captain Timon,” she cried. ^^If there are 
so many barnacles on the ship I should think they 
would serve for ballast.” 

The skipper shook his head. ^^It won’t do to trust 
to barnacles,” he said, though I don’t doubt there’s 
a good many of ’em. But don’t be afraid, ma’am. 
We’ll get her off before you know it.” 

It was on the morning of a Wednesday, the 3d of 
June, that Captain Timon came to us rubbing his 
hands, and declared that the Merry Chanter was ready 
to sail. He called the ship the Chanter, but that was 
an abbreviation my wife and I never allowed our- 
selves to adopt. 

Hurrah ! ” cried Doris, before I could find words 

227 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


to express my satisfaction. ^^And now, dear captain, 
let every sail be set, and hoist our ensign to the top- 
most peak.’’ 

A smile came over the face of the good skipper, 
guess we won’t set every sail,” said he. ^‘They 
won’t be needed with this wind ; an’ as to ensign, I 
don’t know as we’ve got one aboard.” 

^^That is too bad ! ” said Doris. As soon as we are 
fairly off I’ll go to work and make one myself.” 

Everything being now all ready, and Captain 
Timon having done everything that should be done 
for a schooner clearing for Boston, we hoisted anchor ; 
that is to say, we cast off the cables which for so long 
had held the Me7'ry Chanter to Cantling’s wharf. 

It seemed to me as if the whole town had turned out 
to see us off and to help us get off. More willing 
hands than were really necessary helped the captains 
to hoist the foresail, the mainsail, and two jibs ; and 
when this had been done the owners of the willing 
hands scuttled down into their boats, made fast to a 
line from the Merry Chanter^ and vigorously pulled 
her bows around so that she might take the wind. 

It was a long time before her bow got around or 
she took the wind ; but Doris and I and the butcher 
scarcely noticed this, so busy were we waving our 
handkerchiefs and shouting good-bys to the women, 
the children, and the old men on the wharf, who, in re- 
turn, waved their handkerchiefs, their hands, or their 
hats to us, wishing us a lucky voyage, fair winds, and 
smooth water. 

At last the Merry Chanter was got around, the wind 
filled her sails, the boats cast off, and, pulling to a 
little distance, their occupants waved their hats and 

228 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


cheered ; there was a slight inclination of the deck to 
leeward, and our ship was under way. 

It is seldom, I think, that a ship goes to sea with a 
crew composed entirely of captains, hut the considera- 
tion of the fact gave ns great comfort. Here were 
men with long lives of experience. Whatever might 
happen, they would know exactly what to do. These 
noble seamen had been from pole to pole ; they had 
known the desolation of the icy north ; they had sailed 
through the furious typhoons of the tropics ; and with 
sound ships, or ships with battered sides, they had 
dashed in safety through maddened waves from port 
to port. And not only the best of good seamanship, 
but the best of good luck, we carried with us. In all 
his life Captain Cyrus had never had anything serious 
happen to his ships ; and why should he begin now ? 
It was especially consoling to me, as I looked at my 
lovely wife, to think of these things at the outset of 
our wedding-trip. 

Hot only seamen of vast experience, but able and 
lively seamen, were our captains. Ho one could 
imagine that years hung heavy upon them. Captain 
Timon stood at the helm with the bold, bright eye 
of an old sea-king. Captain Garnish, acting as mate, 
strode tall and strong along the deck, looking up at 
the sails and rigging with the air of a man who knew 
exactly what each inch of canvas, each stick of timber, 
and each piece of cordage should at that moment be 
doing, and ready, if he saw the least thing amiss, to 
roar out condemnation. 

Captain Teel had assumed the duties of cook, and 
was now shut up in the galley ; but Captain Cyrus, as 
lively as a squirrel, and still wearing his embroidered 

229 


THE MERRY CHANTER 

velvet slippers, was here, there, and e^’ery where, 
stowing away this, coiling up that, and making 
things, in general, shipshape, and always with a 
pleasant grin upon his face, as if it were all an old 
story to him and he liked it. 

Doris ran forward to see how the Merry Chanter 
himself was getting on, and I followed. We leaned 
over the bulwarks of the bow and looked at him. 
There he stood, part of his right arm still extended, 
his head thrown back, and his long hair appearing 
ready to float in the breeze, while his open mouth 
seemed drinking in the fresh salt air. 

^^Look at him ! cried Doris. ^^He is all ready for 
the tossing waves, the roaring gale, and the brave sea 
song. How grand it must be to stand there with 
nothing but the sea before him, catching everything 
first, and afraid of nothing ! 

Seizing my hands, Doris danced away with me 
over an almost level deck. ^Hsn’t this grand?” 
she said. ^^And treading our own deck ! Let’s pipe 
all hands to grog ! ” 

I entered into the enthusiasm, but demurred to the 
grog-piping. 

On the opposite side of the deck walked up and 
down the butcher, clad in an immaculately clean 
white gown of the kind peculiar to his trade, and 
worn probably with the idea of keeping the dust off 
his clothes. 

How do you like the sea ? ” asked Doris, as we passed, 
think I shall like it when we get there,” said 
the butcher. 

^^Get there!” she exclaimed. ^^Don’t you call this 
the sea!” 


230 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


said lie ; ^^this is Mooseley harbor. When we 
get around that point, two miles from here, then we 
are really out to sea.” 

Captain Teel now appeared and informed ns that 
dinner was ready. It bad been decided that the 
butcher, as a passenger, should mess with us. Cap- 
tain Timon was also to be one of our company, but he 
declined to leave the wheel for the present. 

The butcher appeared at the table in a neat suit of 
new elothes, having removed his gown. He was, in- 
deed, a very tidy and proper -looking fellow. As he 
was used to that sort of thing, I invited him to carve. 

^^Ho, sir,” said he, quietly but with decision j 
have shut the shop door behind me.” 

We had fine sea appetites for our meal, but Doris 
ate hurriedly. ^H’m so afraid we’ll pass around the 
point while I am down here,” she said. wouldn’t 
for the world miss our actual passage out upon the 
bosom of Mother Ocean ! ” 

When we ran on deck we looked about and beheld 
the point still ahead of us. 

^^Why, Captain Timon,” said Doris, ^‘have we sailed 
at all ? ” 

^^Oh, yes,” he said cheerily, ^^we’re gettin’ on, we’re 
gettin’ on. We haven’t lost no headway so fur. This 
wind’ll freshen before long, and then you’ll see.” And 
leaving the helm in care of Captain Garnish, he went 
below. 

Whether the wind fell off instead of freshening, or 
whether, as Doris surmised, we had become acciden- 
tally anchored, we certainly made but little progress, 
and there were times when it seemed as if the distant 
point were actually becoming more distant. 

231 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


As there was no probability of an immediate rush 
out upon Mother Ocean, we went below to look over 
our little stock of literature ; and while so engaged 
we heard a great sound of flapping and banging upon 
deck. Hurrying up, we found that the sails were 
loosely swinging and hanging, and that the crew, 
assisted by Captain Timon, were engaged in pulling 
them down. 

^AVhat is the matter?’’ we cried. 

Nothin’ is the matter,” replied Captain Cyrus, 
cheerily. ^^We’re goin’ to fish.” 

Doris sat down on something. ^^Fish ! ” she gasped. 

Captain Timon now came toward us. ^‘You see,” 
said he, ^4t ain’t no use try in’ to make headway 
against this flood- tide ; an’ so we thought we’d a great 
sight better anchor and fish. The fish’ll be cornin’ in 
lively with the flood. The tide will turn about six 
o’clock, an’ then we can go out on the ebb an’ pass 
the p’int in just the prettiest time of the evenin’. 
An’ if you want to fish, there’s lines enough on board 
for everybody.” 

For some minutes we were disgusted to the point of 
not being able to say how disgusted we were. Then 
Doris, seeing the captains gathered at the stern all 
busy in preparing their lines, sprung to her feet and 
declared that she might as well make the best of it, 
and that she was going to fish. 

Captain Cyrus took charge of her, baiting her hook, 
and cheerily giving her all needful help and advice. 
As for me, I did not care to fish ; and as for the 
butcher, he did not care to fish j and together we 
walked forward. 

^Tt’s my opinion,” said he, confidentially, ^^that this 

232 . 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


is a stone sliip. I’ll lay two to one there’s barnacles 
on her like the foundation-walls of a church, and 
inside they’ve loaded her u]) with stone enough for a 
monument. If she ever sticks fast on a bar she’ll be 
solid enough to build a lighthouse on.” 

^^You don’t seem to have faith in the sailing quali- 
ties of our ship,” said I. ^^You must be sorry you 
took passage with us.” 

^^Oh, no,” said he. ^^I’ve come on board with all 
my belongin’s, and I intend to stick to her as long 
as anybody else does. Stone ship or wooden ship, I 
don’t go back on my bargain.” 

The Merry Chanter was lying two or three miles 
from Mooseley and about a mile and a half from the 
point. The wind and tide together had swung her 
around so that she lay almost broadside to the distant 
town. Looking in that direction, we saw, far away, a 
little boat. 

The butcher gazed a few moments in silence, and 
then he said : There’s a skiff cornin’ after us from 
town. Perhaps they think somethin’s happened. I’ll 
go down and get one of the spy-glasses and see who 
it is.” 

When he returned with the glass, he levelled it at 
the boat. For a few moments he gazed, and then he 
said forcibly, but in an undertone, ^^I’ll be knocked 
in the head if that isn’t Captain Cyrus’s wife ! ” 

What do you suppose she wants ? ” I asked. Why 
does she come ? ” 

^^ISTo man can tell you that,” 'he answered. ^^She 
hates sea air, and won’t live with him. But since I’ve 
been in these parts she’s come down four times to see 
him, and every time he has been away on a hshin’ 

233 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


cruise or sometliin’. You know Captain Cyrus goes 
for the luckiest man in the world. But my con- 
science ! she made it hot for the neighbors when she 
saw the way his house was kept. And now she’s 
found him off again j but bein’ anchored, she’s come 
after us. I’ll go and report to the skipj^er.” 

So saying, he walked aft, and taking Captain Timon 
aside, he stated what he had seen. I followed, and I 
perceived that this intelligence had a wonderful effect 
upon our skipper. 

Don’t say a word to Captain Cyrus,” he whispered 
to us. ^^We must get out of this in no time.” And, 
without a ‘moment’s delay, he piped all hands to haul 
up fishing-lines, weigh anchor, hoist sail, and get 
under way. 

In these hurried preparations I did what I could to 
help j and the butcher looked as if he would like to 
follow my example, but was restrained by the pro- 
prieties of his position as a passenger. 

^Yf there’s any danger of that boat catchin’ up,” 
said he, ^^I’ll lay hold and work like a good fellow ; 
for her cornin’ aboard will be worse than a ship afire.” 

The skipper was at the wheel. We’re goin’ to 
run her before the wind,” he said, ^^an’ we won’t try 
to double the p’int. That land off there makin’ the 
sou’west line of our harbor is an island, an’ there’s an 
inlet between it and the mainland that we can run 
through. Wind and tide will favor us, an’ I reckon 
we can get away 5 an’ Captain Cyrus won’t never 
know nothin’ about it. That boat can’t pull across 
the bay after us j she’s huggin’ the shore now on ac- 
count of the tide. Them’s two colored men that’s 
been waiters at a hotel that’s pullin’ her. There ain’t 

234 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


a man belongin’ to our town that would get out his 
boat to take Captain Cyrus’s wife after him.” 

^^But will not Captain Cyrus suspect something from 
your sudden change of plans ? ” I asked. 

^^He knows the fish wouldn’t bite/’ said the skipper, 
^^an’ that ought to be reason enough.” 

The situation had been explained to Doris, and she 
was wildly anxious to have every stitch of canvas 
crowded upon the Merry Chanter that she might speed 
across the bay and away from that little boat. 

“What she wants is to come aboard,” said Doris, 
“and we can’t have a woman like that on the Merry 
Chanter. If she wants to scold her husband let her 
wait until he gets home. It isn’t far to Boston and 
back.” 

Captain Timon smiled at this remark. “We’re not 
on a straight line for Boston just now, but if we try to 
double that p’int she’ll catch us sure.” 

“Then let us forget there is a point,” said Doris, 
who in this matter was exactly of my opinion. 

It did not seem the Merry Chanter^s habit to dash 
through the water, but with a good wind behind her 
and a tide more in her favor than against her, she 
sailed across the bay at a rate considerably better 
than that of a boat rowed by two inexperienced oars- 
men. When the little boat saw what we were about, 
it left the shore and steered as if to cut us off. But it 
was easy to see that the tide was carrying it back 
toward the town. 

The tide also carried us in a somewhat retrograde 
direction, but by the aid of the wind we laid a straight 
course for the inlet of which Captain Timon had 
spoken. 


235 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


Captain Cyrus was kept busy forward, and suspected 
nothing of his pursuit by the little boat. 

^^She has about gi’n up the chase/^ said Captain 
Timon, looking back at the boat. ^^Them fellows 
can’t catch a schooner sailing afore the wind, an’ I 
don’t believe they want to try much, nuther. We 
was at anchor when they put out from town.” 

I had known oarsmen who, I thought, would be able 
to catch that schooner even were she sailing before the 
wind. 

In about two hours we reached the inlet, and Doris 
and I were surprised to find how narrow it was. It 
was like a small river. 

^^Do large ships often go through here?” I asked of 
the skipper. 

^^’Tain’t common,” said he ; ^^but me an’ the other 
cap’ns knows every inch of this inlet an’ every stage 
of the tide, an’ you can rest sure there’ll always be a 
foot of water between her keel an’ the bottom.” 

The inlet, we were told, was three miles long and 
opened into Shankashank Bay. For a great part of 
this distance the incoming tide carried us through, 
and when we met the flood from the bay the inlet 
had widened, so that we were enabled to take advan- 
tage of the wind for the rest of the way. 

It was nearly dark when we emerged into Shanka- 
shank Bay, but we could see well enough to judge 
that it was a large expanse of water. 

“We may as well anchor here,” said the captain, 
“an’ make ourselves comfortable for the night. Even 
if she can get anybody to row her, it’s not likely she 
can come through that inlet after us. The tide runs 
in at both ends of it, an’ meets in the middle, an’ 

236 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


unless she strikes it just at high tide or low tide she’ll 
find a reg’lar mill-race ag’in’ her fur half the way, no 
matter whether it is flood or ebb.” 

The captains were all busy anchoring the schooner 
and getting down the sails when the butcher came up 
the companionway and beckoned me apart. 

^^Look here !” said he, — and I noticed that he ap- 
peared somewhat agitated, — ^^do you know that there 
is a stowaway aboard ? ” 

what?” I exclaimed. 

“Yes, there is,” he continued, “a regular one. I 
was down below where it was pretty dark, bein’ only 
one lantern, when I heard a voice cornin’ from I didn’t 
know where, and sayin’, ^ Butcher, ahoy ! ’ I give a 
jump and looked about lively, I can tell you. And 
directly I saw a straw hat a-stickin’ up from the edge 
of a hatchway. ^Look you, butcher,’ says some one 
under the hat, ^ can’t you get me somethin’ to eat?’ 
^ Who are you? ’ says I. am a stowaway,’ he said ; 
^and as you are neither a captain nor an owner, I 
hope I may persuade you to get me somethin’ to eat, 
for I am very hungry. AVhen the ship is fairly out to 
sea I will come forth, but until then I beg you will 
keep my secret.’ Now, what sort of a stowaway do 
you call that, sir?” asked the butcher, earnestly. 

“A very odd one,” I answered. “What did you say 
to him ? ” 

“I didn’t say no more, but came right up-stairs to 
speak to you ; and he don’t know whether I’ve gone 
to get him grub or to report him to the skipper.” 

“Of course we ought to tell Captain Timon,” said I. 

“I don’t know about that,” said the butcher, shaking 
his head. “Sea-captains are mighty severe on ship- 

237 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


board. It^s ten to one they’d drag him out and pitch 
him overboard, and it’s too dark for him to see to 
swim ashore. I think it will be better to give him 
somethin’ to eat and let him stay aboard till mornin’, 
and then we can put him ashore decently.” 

^^But don’t you think it will be dangerous to have 
such a man on board during the night? ” 

^^You needn’t be afraid of him,” he said. ^^I’ve 
brought my butcher tools along. And, what’s more, 
that fellow ain’t got no call to come out. What he 
wants is to keep shady.” 

We talked a little more on the subject, and I then 
agreed that the butcher should give the stowaway 
something to eat, and that nothing should be said to 
the captains or to my wife until the morning. 

I was ill at ease, however, and did not sleep well 
that night. After tossing about a good deal, I quietly 
arose and peeped out of the cabin door. By the dim 
light of the lantern I saw, not far away, the butcher, 
sitting on a chest. His arms were folded j his eyes 
were open, gazing thoughtfully into the surrounding 
darkness ; and by his side lay a bright and heavy 
butcher’s cleaver. 

He did not see me ; and I softly closed the door, got 
into my berth, and fell into a sound sleep. 


238 


CHAPTER V 


THE STOWAWAY 

When, early in the morning, after our first night on 
board the Merry Chanter, I met the butcher, I did not 
mention to him that I had discovered him standing, 
or rather sitting, guard before our cabin. I believed 
that the sentiments which prompted him to this deli- 
cate attention should be respected. 

^^Well,’’ said I, ^^did everything go on all right in 
the night ? 

^^All right,” he answered. have just peeped 
down the hatchway, and I caught sight of his straw 
hat. I guess the rest of him is there. And, if you say 
so, wedl let him stay till after breakfast.” 

An hour later, when the captain and Doris were 
informed that there was a stowaway in the hold, there 
was great excitement on board the schooner. All 
thoughts of weighing anchor and setting sail were 
abandoned for the time. Every soul on the vessel 
repaired to the hatchway. Even Doris pressed as 
near the edge as I would allow. The stowaway was 
bidden to come forth, and almost immediately he 
scrambled up among us. The light was not very good 
between- decks, and we could only see that he was a 
man of medium height and of spare build. 

239 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


With Captain Timon on the one side of him, and 
Captain Garnish on the other, the stowaway was 
marched to the upper deck. This unauthorized 
passenger was seen to possess an intelligent face and 
a very rusty suit of clothes. Glancing rapidly around 
him, he exclaimed, ^^We are not at sea ! 

At sea ! roared Captain Garnish. double- 

headed Dutchman of a land-lubber you must be not to 
know the difference between pitchin’ on the sea and 
lyin’ all night at anchor in smooth water ! How 
dared you stow yourself away on board this vessel? 
Is it rope’s end first, or simple chuck over the side ? ” 
he said, turning to the skipper. 

“We won’t be too hard on him,” said Captain 
Timon. “Perha];)S the man can’t swim.” 

“He ain’t done no harm,” said Captain Cyrus. 
“Let’s let him off easy and set him ashore in a boat.” 

Captain Teel shook his head. “It won’t do,” he 
said, “to offer prizes for that sort of thing.” 

“Prizes ! ” cried Captain Garnish, who was evi- 
dently a man of high temper, with a strong way of 
doing and putting things. “I’d prize him ! I’d — ” 

Doris now spoke up. “[N'one of those things shall 
be done to him,” she said, “until he tells his story. 
Please, sir, will you tell us your story ? ” 

The man had a pair of plaintive eyes, and he fixed 
them upon Doris. “I am a schoolmaster,” he said. 
“For nearly a year I have been teaching at West 
Imbury.” 

Each of the captains now put his head a little for- 
ward, and listened with great attention. 

“I stood it as long as I could,” said the schoolmaster, 
“and then I ran away. I am not a sailor, but I 

240 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


tliought I should like to go to sea. Anything would 
be better than teaching school at West Inibury.’’ 

^^Did the scholars treat you badly asked Doris. 

^^Oh, no,’’ said the schoolmaster. don’t mind 
boys— I can manage them ; but it was the woman I 
boarded with who drove me to desperation.” 

^^Couldn’t you board somewhere else? ” asked Doris. 

^^No, not at all,” he answered. ^^She had a contract 
from the town to board me for two years. She was 
the lowest bidder. She would lose money if I went 
away, and she threatened me with the law. But my 
privations and misery were insupportable, and I fled.” 

^^Who was the woman who had your contract!” 
asked Captain Cyrus. 

^^Mrs. Bodship,” said the schoolmaster. 

At these words each of the four captains heaved a 
sigh, and, involuntarily. Captain Cyrus laid his hand 
on the man’s shoulder. 

^^Now that you’ve put yourself square afore us,” 
said Captain Timon, don’t know as we’ve got much 
to say ag’in’ you 5 but you ought to have come aboard 
square an’ honest, instead of stowin’ away.” 

was told,” said the schoolmaster, ^^that you did 
not want any hands, and I could not stay on shore a 
moment longer.” 

^^Do you wish to go to Boston!” asked Doris, 
will go anywhere,” said the schoolmaster. 
will do anything, if only you will let me stay with 
you.” 

The captains now retired and talked together, while 
Doris and I had some further conversation with the 
schoolmaster. In a few minutes the captains returned. 

^^We have agreed,” said the skipper, ^That if the 

241 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


owners are willin’ we are willin’ to let him stay on 
board, on condition that he is not to have any part of 
the profits. We are all agreed that the profits ought 
not to be divided into any more than six parts. So 
that if he stays aboard he mustn’t do no more v^ork 
than will just pay for what he eats ; a bunk, not costin’ 
anything, can be thrown in for nothin’.” 

This compact was quickly made, and the school- 
master, much relieved, was taken below to break- 
fast. 

There ain’t no need,” said Captain Timon, confi- 
dentially, “fur Captain Cyrus or that schoolmaster to 
know that Mrs. Eodship was tryin’ to overhaul the 
schooner. It will just worry the captain, an’ won’t 
do the schoolmaster no good.” 

“Do you think Mrs. Bodship will continue her pur- 
suit?” I asked. 

“Yes, sir,” said the skipper. “She’s the kind of 
woman that don’t give up easy. But I think we’ve 
given her the slip. She’ll be sure to think that we’ve 
rounded this island and sailed north, for of course 
we couldn’t have no call to stay in Shankashank Bay. 
It’s my opinion she’s gone to Boston to be ready to 
meet us when we get there. She’s got a horse an’ 
buggy, an’ I calculate she’ll drive herself there.” 

“You don’t mean,” exclaimed Doris, “that she can 
get to Boston in a buggy sooner than we can get there 
in the Merry Chanter ? ” 

“Yes, I do,” answered Captain Timon. “She’s an 
awful woman with the whip. An’ the reason I think 
she will go in her buggy is that she’ll want to call at 
the different ports to see if we have put into any of 
them for water or repairs.” 

242 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


^^Horrible ! ’’ cried Doris. “What shall we do 
when we get to Boston and find her there 

“I don’t believe she’ll wait,” said the skipper. 
“She’s a nervous woman, an’ hates to wait. I guess 
she’ll be gone when we get there.” 

When the schoolmaster came on deck he had tidied 
himself up a little and now looked like another man. 
“I cannot thank yon enough,” he said to Doris and 
me, “for allowing me to remain on board of your 
ship. It is like beginning a new life. But I must 
admit that I shall feel safer when I am out upon the 
open sea.” 

“Can yon swim?” asked the butcher, who was 
standing near. 

The schoolmaster answered that he was sorry to be 
obliged to say that he could not ; whereupon the 
butcher gently whistled a few notes and gazed out 
over the water. 

I had begun to believe that the butcher was a pessi- 
mist. 

“And now, captain,” cried Doris, “let ns up anchor 
and hoist sail. There is no reason for our stopping 
here any longer.” 

“I don’t know about that,” said Captain Timon, 
dubiously. “The tide is cornin’ in again, an’ we’ll 
get out of this bay just as quick by lyin’ here as by 
tryin’ to sail ag’in’ that flood-tide. But if you’d like 
to be movin’, we can take a sail along the coast of 
Shankashank Bay an’ have a sight of the country ; 
an’ then, when the tide turns, we can go out on the 
ebb.” 

“Oh, by all means, let us sail ! ” cried Doris. “Any- 
thing is better than being anchored here.” 

243 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


I to understand^ captain/’ said I, ^^that during 
our voyage we are to stop every time the tide is 
against us V’ 

no/’ said the skipper, with a laugh. ^^That’s 
only when we’re in these bays. We sha’n’t take no 
account of tide when we are out to sea.” 

During the rest of that morning we sailed along the 
coast of Shankashank Bay, sometimes half a mile from 
the land and sometimes even less. It was a pretty 
shore, and we enjoyed it, although we were moving 
south and almost directly away from Boston. There 
was a good wind from the west, but we sailed slowly. 
We would not wish, however, to sail very fast in the 
wrong direction. 

We passed a little scattered town, with a few fish- 
ing-boats anchored along the shore. Then we came 
to a bluff crowned with pine woods which extended 
some distance back into the interior. The country, 
as far as we could see along the shore, appeared 
marshy and thinly settled. 

The captains now went forward and talked to- 
gether, leaving the wheel in my hands. I had deter- 
mined to learn to steer, and to get as much nautical 
education as possible. 

In a very few minutes Captain Timon returned. 
nWe’ve agreed,” said he, ^That we’d be runnin’ ag’in’ 
sense an’ reason if we didn’t lay to here and take in 
water.” 

^^Water!” I cried. ^‘Why, we have taken in 
water.” 

^Wes,” said the skipper, ^^common water. But just 
the other side of that bluff there’s the Kilkink Spring. 
A tribe of Injuns used to live there just on account of 

244 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


that spring. There is no better water in the world, 
an’ it’s great on keepin’. Fur a long v’yage there’s 
nothin’ like it.” 

At first Doris and I were inclined to rebel ; but sud- 
denly she changed her mind. ^^It is true,” she said, 
^That the water we have had to drink so far is flat 
and horrid, and now that we have a chance of taking 
in some fine spring water we ought by all means to 
do so. It can’t keep us long.” 

This seemed to me a proper moment to assert 
myself, and to make Doris understand that I was the 
one who should decide questions of this sort. But 
upon reflection I found that I was not prepared to 
take such action. When I took my true position I 
must be fully prepared to maintain it. 

In twenty minutes we were anchored about a quar- 
ter of a mile from the bluff, and after dinner a boat 
with two easks and two eaptains went ashore for 
water. 

The schoolmaster was ill at ease. ^^I do not be- 
lieve,” said he to me, ^^that I can truly feel safe from 
Mrs. Bodship until we are actually out at sea.” 

The butcher walked aft to where Captain Timon 
was quietly smoking his pipe. ^^Look here,” said the 
butcher, ^^you ought to give that schoolmaster some- 
thin’ to do. He has got a mind, he has, and if you 
don’t set his arms and legs a-goin’, that mind of his 
will run away with him.” 

have given him somethin’ to do,” said the 
skipper, sternly. ^^He’s lent a hand at the capstan, 
an’ he’s lent a hand at the sheets. That’ll pay fur 
his breakfast an’ dinner, an’ I can’t give him no more 
work till he’s had his supper.” 

245 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


The butcher made no further remark to the skip- 
per^ but turning to me as I sat by with my afternoon 
pipe^ he said : ^^He’s so scared that he won’t stay on 
deck for fear that she might be driving along in her 
buggy and get sight of him. And if she does, he 
says, she’ll be bound to come aboard.” 

^^What in the world is he afraid of?” I asked. 
^^He must be very silly.” 

^^He is afraid of Mrs. Bodship,” said the butcher ; 
^^and if you knew Mrs. Bodship you’d be afraid of 
her too, especially if she had a contract to board you. 
I believe that wherever that schoolmaster goes she’d 
follow him and board him, so that she could send in 
her bill to the town.” For a moment he stood in 
thought. know what I’ll do ! ” he exclaimed. 
^M’ll lend him one of my gowns to wear over his 
clothes. Then he can be on deck as much as he 
pleases, and if she does see him she won’t know him, 
unless her spectacles are a lot better than most.” 

Not long afterward there appeared on deck what 
seemed to be a pair of butchers. Doris and I were 
much amused by the spectacle. But, notwithstand- 
ing his garb, the schoolmaster did not look the butcher. 
His gait, his bearing, were not those of a genuine slicer 
of meat and cleaver of bones. Still, he was disguised 
sufficiently to deceive any Mrs. Bodship who might be 
travelling on shore. 

The butcher’s efforts on behalf of the schoolmaster’s 
peace of mind did not end here. After a few turns 
up and down the deck in deep reflection, he came aft, 
bringing with him the cage which contained the 
wounded sandpiper. 

“Look here,” said he to the schoolmaster, “I wish 

246 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


you’d run this bird while you’re aboard. I’m not 
such an hour-and-minute man as you are, and some- 
times I forget him.” 

The schoolmaster took the cage and looked inquir- 
ingly at the other. 

^^Now,” said the butcher, there’s a good deal to 
occupy the mind in running a sandpiper in a cage, 
especially if he’s got a broken wing. I laid out to 
cure that wing, but I guess you can do it a great deal 
better than I could, if you give your mind to it. 
What he wants is plenty of mutton tallow, and a 
cage kept as clean as a hospital ward.” 

When the two casks and Captain Teel and Captain 
Garnish returned in the boat, the schoolmaster, with 
a piece of sail-cloth tied in front of him to protect 
his butcher’s gown, was busily engaged in cleaning 
the sandpiper’s cage. Captain Garnish stepped up to 
him with an angry glare upon his face. 

^^Look here,” he said, ^That’s ag’in’ contract. We 
didn’t take you aboard this schooner to work, except 
meal stints, an’ no more.” 

The schoolmaster looked up at the angry captain, 
but before he could reply the butcher broke in. 
^^Now, then, cap’n,” said he, ^This sandpiper business 
is a private job between me and the schoolmaster. 
What he gets and what he don’t get is his business 
and mine. The sandpiper hasn’t got anything to do 
with the ship, and he could be run ashore just as well 
as he is run here.” 

The severity on Captain Garnish’s countenance be- 
gan to fade. ^Wery well,” said he, ^4f it’s private, 
I’ve nothin’ to say. But there’s no claims fur work 
to be brought ag’in’ the profits.” 

247 


CHAPTER VI 

THE MAN ON THE HILL 

Doeis and I were amazed at the slow progress made 
by the captains in supplying the Merry Chanter with 
pure water from the celebrated Kilkink Spring. The 
boat went out again, this time with the skipper and 
Captain Teel, and their trip was a longer one than 
that of the two other captains. At the end of the 
third trip evening began to fall, and Captain Timon 
said it would be of no use to try to get any more 
water that day. 

^^Any more*?’^ cried Doris. Surely we have 
enough by this time ! ” 

The skipper smiled and shook his head. ^^T^ot fur 
a sea v’yage,’^ he said. ^^When you once get out to 
sea there’s no gettin’ in fresh water. You see, we’ve 
throwed out all we took in at Mooseley, because you 
said that it didn’t agree with you. We don’t want to 
make our owners sick, you know.” 

wish I had never mentioned the water,” said 
Doris, marching away. 

The next morning the process of taking in the 
water began again ; but there was no use fretting 
about this. Captain Timon remarked, for the tide was 

248 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


coming in again, and we ought to be glad that we had 
something useful to do while we were obliged to wait. 

Restless and impatient, and tired of walking up and 
down the deck of our anchored vessel, Doris and I 
went ashore on the second trip of the boat, thinking 
a country walk might quiet our minds. The butcher 
had already been landed ; but we could not induce 
the schoolmaster to leave the ship. We left him 
anointing and bandaging the wounded wing of the 
sandpiper. 

Doris would not leave until the skipper had assured 
her that our going on shore would not interfere with 
the sailing of the Merry Chanter when the proper time 
came. Captain Timon said he would fire a gun — he 
had a musket on board— two hours before he weighed 
anchor, and as this would certainly give us plenty 
of time to return to the ship, we went ashore with 
easy hearts. 

The country which lay between the bluff and the 
little town was slightly rolling, wiry grass growing 
thinly in the sandy soil, with a few bushes here and 
there. At some distance, on the top of a little 
rounded hill, we saw the butcher, apparently admir- 
ing the landscape. As we walked in his direction, 
desiring to know if anything could be seen from the 
top of that hill, he came down to meet us. 

^^Do you know,” he said, as soon as he was near 
enough, ^Tf that schoolmaster was attendin’ to my 
sandpiper ? ” 

We assured him that we had left the pedagogue 
giving careful attention to the unfortunate bird. 

am glad of that,” he said, his countenance as- 
suming an expression of relief. ^^He ought to keep 

249 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


himself occupied, and the captains won’t let him do 
no more for the ship than just exactly so much. I 
was afraid he might get tired stayin’ there doin’ 
nothin’ and might come ashore. And it would be 
pretty rough on him if she were to nab him before 
he’d got to fairly feelin’ at home on the ship.” 

^^What were you looking at from that hilH” asked 
Doris, who was anxious to go on. 

was looking for Mrs. Bodship,” said he. ^Mf I’d 
seen her driving this way in her buggy I’d been on 
board in no time, and had that schoolmaster stowed 
away among the ballast ; and if he’d heaved some of 
it at her when she come down to look for him I 
wouldn’t have blamed him, though, of course. Cap- 
tain Cyrus’s feelings must be taken into account 
when it comes to that.” 

think you are entirely too much afraid of Mrs. 
Bodship,” said I. 

^^Well, she hasn’t come along yet,” said the butcher. 
^^But on the top of that hill there is a man that I’ve 
had my eye on for pretty nigh an hour. In the 
whole of that time I don’t believe he’s taken his eyes 
off the ship. I have an idea that he has got a con- 
tract to spy for Mrs. Bodship.” 

^^Let us go straight over there and speak to him,” 
said Doris. ^^Ho man has a right to spy on the Merry 
Chanter P 

Doris spoke so quickly that I had no time to pro- 
pose this myself, but we instantly started for the dis- 
tant man. 

^^Let me go first,” said the butcher. ^^He may have 
a club or a knife about him.” 

Whether or not the butcher had his cleaver in one 

250 


THE MERRY CHANTER 

of liis pockets I could not tell, but he walked bravely 
on. 

The man on the hill did not seem at all disturbed 
by our approach. On the eontrary, he came to meet 
us, as the butcher had done. He was a middle-sized 
man, somewhat inclined to stoutness, but very quick 
and springy in his gait. His face was plump and 
ruddy, smooth shaven except a pair of sandy side- 
whiskers, and he had pleasant blue eyes. Without 
doubt he was an Englishman. 

^^Good morning to you,” he said, raising his hat. 
^^ISTow, I dare say you belong to that ship.” 

I informed him that my wife and I owned the 
vessel. 

Really ! ” he exclaimed. ^^Now, tell me, where 
are you bound to V’ 

^^To Boston,” I replied. 

^^The very thing!” he exclaimed. ^^Boston is in 
the North somewhere, now, isn’t it? I’m an English 
traveller, but I don’t like your long railway car- 
riages. In England we’d use them for bridges. I 
came to this place in a wagon, but it is broken to 
smash down there in that village. Now, I should 
like, of all things, to take a sail along the eoast; I 
don’t care whether it is to Boston or Salt Lake City. 
Now, tell me, will you book me as a passenger? It is 
a trading- vessel, isn’t it ? ” 

Doris and I consulted apart. have an idea,” said 
she, ^That it is not impossible we might make more 
money carrying passengers than freight. He seems 
like an honest, straightforward man. Why shouldn’t 
we take him to Boston?” 

We returned and told the man that we were mak- 

251 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


ing a regular commercial cruise to Boston^ and that 
if he were in no hurry to get there we would take him 
as a passenger. 

^^Good ! he cried^ ^G’ll go. I am in no hurry, you 
know. But you are positively sure, now, that you are 
not going to cross the Atlantic ? ’’ 

So far the butcher had not spoken, nor did he speak 
now ; but the spasm of resigned pessimism which 
seemed to run through his frame, heaving his chest 
and gently upturning his eyes, indicated quite plainly 
his opinion of the Merry Chanter’’s crossing the At- 
lantic. 

Having assured the Englishman that our trade was 
entirely coastwise, he declared he would go instantly 
to the town, fetch his luggage, and be on board in no 
time. In fact, when we had finished our ramble and 
were about to enter the boat which Captain Teel had 
rowed over to take us back to dinner, we saw our 
passenger rapidly striding over the hills, bearing an 
immense portmanteau in one hand, and in the other 
a hat-box, a bundle of umbrellas and canes, besides 
various other packages. He shouted to us to wait for 
him, and we took him on board with us. 

The captains did not object in the least to our new 
passenger. Summer tenants an’ boarders,” said Cap- 
tain Timon, ^^an’ sailin’ -parties long and short, has got 
ten times more money in ’em than fish an’ crops, or 
the fiour trade either, for that matter. I go in fur 
pickin’ up passengers all along the coast if we can 
get ’em.” 

^^Always being careful,” said Doris, in an under- 
tone, ^^not to pick up a Bodship.” At which Captain 
Timon gave a sympathetic grin. 

252 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


After dinner Doris said to me, ^^We ought to have 
a book in which to put down the names of our pas- 
sengers.’^ Accordingly I made one of several sheets 
of paper. "We entered first the name of the butcher, 
and then I was about to write that of the school- 
master, but Doris objected. 

^AVe ought to have another page for a free list,” 
she said, ^^and put him on that.” 

When this had been arranged we went on deck to 
inquire the name of our new passenger. We found 
him sitting on a coil of rope, smoking a black wooden 
pipe and talking gayly to the butcher, the school- 
master, and three of the captains. 

^AVhat is your name, sir ? ” said I, approaching with 
my book in my hand. 

He took his pipe from his mouth in deference to 
the presence of my wife. am Lord Crabstairs,” he 
said. 

I happened to be looking at the butcher at this mo- 
ment, and saw him suddenly turn upon his heel and 
disappear below. In an instant he returned. His 
arms were folded upon his chest, but I could see be- 
neath his white gown the distinct outlines of a cleaver. 
He stepped close to me. 

^^Maniacy is a thing,” he whispered, ^^which cannot 
be allowed on shipboard.” 

^^You may think it a little odd,” said the new pas- 
senger, looking about on the various degrees of surprise 
and amazement expressed upon the countenances of 
the company, ^^that a member of the Upper House 
should be neglecting his parliamentary duties and 
taking passage with you for Boston, where he hasn’t 
the least business in the world, you know. But when 

253 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


I have told you my story you won’t think it so beastly 
odd, after all.” 

^^Stor^?” cried Doris. ^^Let everybody sit down 
and listen.” 

And everybody did ; Captain Teel being brought 
post-haste from the cook’s galley. 


254 


CHAPTER YII 


LORD CRABSTAIES 

the first place/’ said Doris, you really mean 
to say that you are truly an English lord— a peer of 
the realm ? ” 

do really and truly mean to say that,” answered 
the passenger, his blue eyes gleaming with as much of 
an honest glow as was ever seen in eyes. am 
Henry, Lord Crabstairs of Haviltree, Warwickshire. 
The family estates once covered, I am told, ten thou- 
sand acres.” 

The butcher listened with interest. ^^Cattle?” he 
asked. 

^^Oh, no,” said the other, don’t care for cattle. 
What I like is poultry. Just before I left England I 
had the finest lot of poultry you ever saw— all blooded, 
with pedigrees. And bees, twenty-seven hives of bees, 
and each one with its name painted on it in a different 
color from the rest — ^ Daisy,’ ^Clover,’ ^Daffodil,’ and 
so on. The bees couldn’t read the names, you know, 
but each one knew his hive by the color of the letters.” 

^^This is the first time I ever heard,” said Captain 
Garnish, “that there was twenty -seven colors.” 

“Oh, bless you !” cried the Englishman, “it is easy 
enough to manage that. On one hive the letters were 

255 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


all red, and on another they were all bine, and on 
another half were red and half blue, and so on. In 
that way I made the eolors go round, you know.’^ 

^‘You ought to have painted your bees,’’ remarked 
Captain Timon, ^^and then there eouldn’t have been 
no mistake. If you saw a red bee goin’ into a blue 
hive you eould have picked him up and put him into 
the right hole.” 

^^No need of that, no need of that ! ” cried the Eng- 
lishman. ^^The bees attend to that. They kill them 
if they make a mistake, you know. And there are 
lots of other things I like, such as flower-beds and a 
kitchen garden. Nothing sets me up, you know, like 
working in the kitchen garden. And a cow. Every 
morning I curried and brushed my cow until she shone 
like a sealskin. That cow knew me like a brother. 
If she happened to be out of sight in the copse, all I 
had to do was to drum on the bottom of a tin pail, 
and she would come running to be milked and to get 
her bit of cabbage-leaf.” 

The company looked wonderingly at one another. 
Was this the usual way of life with British peers? 

^^When all that happened,” continued the speaker, 
^^I was the happiest man in the United Kingdom. 
Forty years old, sound of wind and limb, no wife nor 
child nor any one depending on me, a nice little house 
in the prettiest part of Bucks County, with a great 
copper beech in front of my door that the earl him- 
self would have given a thousand pounds for if it could 
have been taken up and planted in his x>ark, with a 
little green as smooth as velvet where I used to feed 
my fowls, and the brightest flower-beds and the earli- 
est peas within twelve miles of Aylesbury. I have a 

256 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


little income from my mother’s family, and that kept 
things going, and from break of day till ten o’clock at 
night there couldn’t be a jollier fellow than I was. 

^^Well, madam, and all of you, it was on a beautiful 
morning this spring, with the grass greener and more 
flowers in blossom and the peas more forward than I 
had ever known them before at that time of year, not 
to speak of a little calf as like to her mother as two 
pins of different sizes, when I was sitting in front of 
my cottage in the shade of the beech, with my morn- 
ing pipe and mug of ale, that there came to me two 
men, — attorneys, they were, from London, who had 
driven over from the railway-station in a dog-cart, — 
and they lost no time in saying that their errand was 
to inform me that by the death of the late lamented 
Godfrey, Lord Crabstairs, I was now Henry, Lord 
Crabstairs of Haviltree. 

“As you may well imagine, I jumped up in a rage 
at hearing this. ^None of your lies ! ’ I cried. ^Lord 
Godfrey may be dead or he may not be dead, but, 
whichever he is, he has a son and a grandson, legal 
issue. You need not supi)Ose that I have not kept 
my eye on all that.’ ^ That may be,’ said the speaking 
attorney ; ^ but your eye didn’t keep the son from fall- 
ing overboard from a collier in the Mersey, and his 
infant son from dying two weeks ago of cholera in- 
fantum, without issue. Whereupon, by the death of 
old Lord Godfrey yesterday morning, you are Lord 
Crabstairs, and no mistake.’ 

“Yow, then,” said the Englishman, looking briskly 
around at his auditors, “I was so angry that I was 
ready to knock down those two men right and left. 
But in England it does not do to lay hands on law 

257 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


folk. I was well up iu this Crabstairs succession, you 
know. I had studied it all my life, and with two good 
lives between me and the title I felt safe. But how 
could any man imagine that such beastly luck was 
coming to him ! You see, the Crabstairs have been 
loaded with an inherited debt for a long, long time 
back, and for a hundred and fifty years there has not 
been a lord of the estate who has lived at Haviltree. 
Every man jack of them, as soon as he came into the 
title, was clapped into jail for debt. There was no 
getting out of it except by running away ; which some 
of them did. 

^^The inherited debt, you know, was bigger than 
any Crabstairs could pay. The second son of old Lord 
Godfrey took time by the forelock and ran away to 
the Philippine Islands, where he married a native 
wife and brought up a large family. But he never 
had anything but a heathen marriage, for fear that 
his elder brother might die without issue, and misery 
might come upon his wife’s children.” 

^^That was true Christianity,” said Captain Teel, 
solemnly. 

^^^Now,’ said the speaking attorney to me, ^my lord,’ 
said he— ‘ Don’t my lord me ! ’ I shouted. ^ I renounce 
the title ! I have nothing to do with these Crabstairs ! 
I am eleven removes from the main line.’ ‘You can’t 
renounce the title, my lord,’ said he. ‘You are the 
heir-at-law, and there is no getting out of it.’ Now 
the second attorney, who hadn’t said anything so 
far, spoke up. He took a paper out of his pocket. 
‘Henry, Lord Crabstairs of Haviltree, Warwickshire,’ 
said he, ‘I arrest you for debt in the amount of two 
hundred and eighty thousand pounds, seven shillings, 

258 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


and sixpence lia’i^enny. And we brought over a con- 
stable in the dog-cart, so tlie easier you make things 
the better.^ 

^^On hearing this I hurled my jpint pot at one attor- 
ney and my pipe at the other, and making a dash at 
the beehives which stood near by, I kicked over a 
dozen of them. A black cloud of savage stingers came 
howling out, and as I sprang away— not one of tliem 
after me, for they knew their master — I heard behind 
me such a cursing and swearing and screaming as 
nearly split my ears. I darted into the garden, 
through the pea- patch, and over the back fence, and 
made across country, at a pace those law people 
couldn’t think of keeping up, to the railway-station. 
I caught a train, went to town, drew all my little 
income that was due, and took passage for America. 

^^And here I am, knowing nothing in the world of 
what has become of my dear home, my cow and my 
calf, of my flower-beds and my kitchen garden, of my 
beautiful flock of poultry, or of the bees and the at- 
torneys. I have left everything behind me ; but there 
is one thought that makes up for a lot of what has 
happened, and that is that for the first time in many 
a long year there is no Lord Crabstairs in jail for 
debt. And what is more,” he said, rising to his feet, 
and his blue eyes sparkling with honest indignation, 
there never will be, so long as I am alive ! ” 

At this Captain Garnish came forward and shook 
the Englishman by the hand, and his example was 
immediately followed by the other captains and by 
the schoolmaster. 

can feel for you,” said the latter, ^^as one who 
flees from tyranny. May you never be overtaken ! ” 

250 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


The butcher did not shake hands. That was not 
his way. He stood up very straight and said : ^^May 
I be chopped and sawed^ bone-drawed and skewered, 
if I’d live in a country where a man can be made a 
lord without his having a word to say about it ! If I 
found myself in that fix, sir, debt or no debt, jail or 
no jail, I’d cut and run ! I say you did the square 
thing, sir ! ” 

^^Do you intend,” asked Doris, who had listened 
with eager earnestness to the Englishman’s story, ^To 
continue to call yourself Lord Crabstairs?” 

^^Of course I do,” said the other. ^^That is my 
name, and I shall not disown it. I don’t wish to sail 
under false colors ; and more than that, so long as it is 
known that I am alive and holding the title they 
can’t nab any other i:>oor fellow, perhaps with a 
family.” 

^^Very good,” said Doris ; ^^we understand your case 
perfectly. And now,” she continued, turning to Caj)- 
tain Timon, ^det us set sail.” 


260 


CHAPTER VIII 


DOLOR TRIPP 

But Captain Timon was not yet ready to set sail. 
The business of water- carrying had not gone on in the 
afternoon, for the reason that the spring had become 
muddy by much dipping, and required some time in 
which to settle and purify itself. Two casks had been 
left there, so it was absolutely necessary that a boat 
should go after them, and it was now too late in the 
day to make an advantageous trip. 

I think Dorises impatience would have proved be- 
yond her control had not she become interested in a 
plan proposed by Lord Crabstairs. That nobleman 
was of an exceedingly lively and practical disposition, 
and took a great interest in his contemplated sea- 
voyage to Boston. He had come into this part of the 
country without other aim than to escape cities, which 
he hated j and he would not now be going to Boston 
but for the opportunity of going by sea. He was very 
fond of the sea, and when he had seen our anchored 
ship he had been fascinated by the idea of sailing 
somewhere in her. 

His desire now was to plunge boldly into sailor life, 
to pull on ropes, to climb the masthead, and all that 
sort of thing, and he had been very much taken aback 

261 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


when the schoolmaster informed him that nothing of 
the kind would be allowed. 

^^If you pay your passage/’ said the schoolmaster, 
^^they will not let you do any work at all ; and if you 
sail gratis, so to speak, you can only do enough to pay 
for your meals.” 

The prospect of sailing without occux)ation appeared 
dull to Lord Crabstairs, nor did the olfer of the school- 
master sometimes to allow him to attend to the sand- 
piper promise much relief. But his mind was as quick 
and active as his body. 

^^By George ! ” he cried, don’t care for birds like 
that ; but I will keep poultry. Fresh eggs every 
morning, and roast fowl for dinner. I will go on 
shore at daybreak to-morrow and buy some.” 

The butcher here remarked that if fowls were to be 
killed he would furnish the tools, but that was all he 
would do, as he had gone out of that business. 

Our detentions in port had had the effect of making 
Doris feel the need of occupation, and she gladly wel- 
comed the poultry scheme. Of course there would 
not be time on the voyage to hatch out little chickens ; 
but she determined, if it were possible, to purchase 
for herself a hen with a young brood. 

The discussion regarding this new scheme proved 
interesting, and the captains gave their full consent. 
The enthusiastic nobleman went so far as to suggest 
the purchase of a few hives of bees, but this proposal 
met with no favor. A cow was spoken of, but here 
the butcher vehemently objected. The time might 
come, he said, when she w^ould have to be slaughtered, 
and he vowed he would not sail in company with a 
cow that might have to be slaughtered. 

2(>2 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


The first thing I saw when I east my eyes land- 
ward the next morning was Lord Crabstairs hurrying 
over the hillocks toward the shore^ and carrying a 
pair of full-grown fowls with each hand. He had 
rowed himself ashore, and now returned with his prizes. 

There they are he cried, as soon as he reached 
the deck. Three hens and a cock ! That was all 
the woman would sell, but she said we might get 
young chicks at a house about a mile farther inland. 
I will go there directly Tve eaten breakfast. And 
now, what are we to do with them? Of course it 
won’t do to put up a high fence all around the deck. 
But I dare say they know as well as we do that they 
can’t swim, and so will not jump overboard. Any- 
way, here goes to see what will happen.” And he cut 
the cords which bound their legs. 

Instantly the four fowls began to rush madly here 
and there, screaming and fluttering their wings. The 
cock flew half-way up one of the shrouds of the main- 
mast, and sat there crowing and evidently highly ex- 
cited, while the three hens went screaming down the 
open hatchway on the forward deck, and then, after 
some wild careering, flew down another hatchway 
into the hold among the ballast. 

^^That will do very well,” said Lord Crabstairs. 
will throw them down some bread, and there they 
can stay until we have mustered the rest of the flock. 
As for the cock, if he likes rope-ladders, he is welcome 
to stop there for the present.” 

^Ht is a good thing he is not an egg-layer,” said the 
schoolmaster. 

After breakfast Lord Crabstairs, accompanied by 
Doris, who wished to select her own brood, and by 

263 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


myself and the butcher, went on shore on an expedi- 
tion after poultry. 

The house to which we directed our steps was 
about a mile and a half from our landing-place, and 
when we had approached near enough to get a good 
view of it we found it to be a dark, sombre building 
without a tree near it, except a great pine, which grew 
so close to one corner that it seemed like a part of the 
house. As we drew nearer, Doris remarked that it 
looked more like a prison than a farm-house. 

At this Lord Crabstairs laughed loud, and said he 
hoped we should not find it full of jail -birds, as those 
were not the ornithological specimens we were after. 

As we drew nearer, the resemblance to a prison 
increased. A high pale-fence surrounded the house- 
yard, and we could see that there were iron bars to 
the windows. The narrow gate which opened upon 
the road was locked, but a man was at work inside, 
and he came and opened it. When we told him our 
errand, he at first hesitated, and then said we must go 
and ask at the house. 

In a body, we went up a grass-grown brick path to 
the front door, where we knocked. A more dreary- 
looking house I never stood before. The building 
itself had a certain air of importance, but the sur- 
rounding grounds did not accord with any such air. 
They were fiat, bare, and covered with scrubby grass j 
not a fiower-bed nor border, nor even a rose-bush. 
The thin grass which covered the house-yard had 
recently been cut, and the man was now raking it 
into meagre little piles of hay. A few outbuildings 
at a short distance were separated from this yard by 
a high fence and a gate. The building itself was 

264 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


destitute of any attempt at ornament, not having 
even a piazza. 

After we had waited some minutes, the door was 
opened as far as a stout chain would allow, and the 
form of a tall woman appeared at the aperture. She 
wore a black-and-white striped sunbonnet. We saw 
more of this sunbonnet than of her face. 

Doris stepped forward and stated our errand. The 
woman listened, and then, remarking that she would 
see, shut the door with a bang. 

Polite, that ! ” said Lord Crabstairs. dare say 
she is a female convict.” 

The door was not opened again, but presently there 
came around the corner another woman, also wearing 
a black-and-white sunbonnet ; but she was shorter and 
had a pleasanter voice than the other. 

^^If it’s chickens you want,” she said, ^^you can come 
this way. We have some to sell.” She led the way 
through a gate to a poultry-yard, were she showed us 
a variety of fowls, not one of which. Lord Crabstairs 
declared, possessed a single drop of pure blood. He 
selected, however, a half-dozen of the best specimens, 
and Doris bought a hen with nine little chicks, to- 
gether with the coop, which, with its occupants, the 
butcher and I undertook to carry to the boat. 

While we were engaged in making our purchases 
another woman came out to the chicken-yard. She 
also wore a black-and-white sunbonnet, but she was 
younger than the two others, and her face was quite 
pretty. Her countenance had a pensive expression, 
but her large gray eyes were quick and alert, and 
moved with interest and curiosity from one member 
of our party to another. She did not speak during 

265 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


the selection and bargaining, but observed everything 
that was done and listened to everything that was 
said. 

When we were lea^dng the poultry-yard she stepped 
up to Doris and said : am glad you wanted chickens. 

I have not seen a stranger since March,^^ 

Delighted to have this opportunity given her to ask 
questions, Doris asked questions without stint. 

^^Yes,’’ answered the young woman, ^^my two sisters 
and I live here all alone by ourselves. This high 
fence and the iron bars to the lower windows are to 
keep out burglars. Alwilda — she is the one who came 
to the front door — and Lizeth — that one over there 
with the chickens — are very much afraid of burglars. 
There is no man in the house. Our hired man sleeps 
in the barn. Alwilda locks the two yard gates herself 
every night, so he is shut out just the same as every- 
body else. My name is Dolor — Dolor Tripp. Tripp 
is onr family name. Yes, it is dreadfully lonely. We 
don’t do anything but just live here, except Alwilda ; 
she paints.” 

Paints ! ” exclaimed Doris in surprise, recalling 
the figure of the tall woman in the black-and-white 
sunbonnet. 

^A^es,” replied Dolor Tripp. ^^She paints pictures 
on the dining-room walls. She has gone only half 
round the room, and she has been years and years at 
it. Sometimes she paints things she sees, and some- 
times things she remembers. The things she remem- 
bers are done better than the things she sees. She 
never goes outside this yard.” 

^^And you?” asked Doris. ^^Have you nothing to 
occupy your time ? ” 


266 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


a thing/’ replied the young woman, ^^except 
housework, and that doesn’t count. I should like the 
chickens, but Lizeth attends to them. I hardly ever 
see neighbors or strangers. The minute I heard that 
there were peoide here to buy chickens I came straight 
out. I am glad to see anybody.” 

I had joined the group, and noticed that at these 
words a smile appeared on the hitherto somewhat 
pensive countenance of the speaker. She looked 
around and perceived that her sister and Lord Crab- 
stairs had gone to a little distance to look at some 
ducks. 

^^Do you know,” she said, ^That over and over again 
I have felt glad that that pine-tree is growing so close 
to the corner of the house. It never enters the minds 
of Alwilda and Lizeth that there is any danger in it, 
but you can see for yourselves that if a burglar once 
got into the yard he could go up that tree just the 
same as a ladder, and get into that second-story 
window. I have sat up half the night wondering if 
a burglar ever would come up that tree.” 

^^Do you mean to say,” I asked, ^That your feeling 
of loneliness is so great that you would even be glad 
to see a burglar? ” 

don’t exactly say that I would be glad to see 
one,” answered Dolor, it would be a change.” 

^^You must indeed be lonely,” said Doris, looking 
upon the girl with earnest sympathy, ^4f you consider 
a burglar better than nobody.” 

Doris looked at Dolor Tripp for a few moments, 
and then suddenly turned to me with a light upon 
her face. She drew me aside, and whispered: 
glittering idea has just struck me. Suppose we pro- 

267 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


pose to her to go with iis ! A voyage to Boston would 
do her no end of good 5 and when we came back we 
could leave her here just as well as not. Shall I ask 
her?” 

There was a deference in these concluding w^ords 
which greatly pleased me. As a rule I did not desire 
any more women on the Merry Chanter j but this case 
was exceptional. The passage-money of the young 
woman would be of service, it would be an excellent 
thing for Doris to have a suitable person of her own 
sex on board, and it would be true charity to give 
this poor girl a chance to see something of the world. 
As to her being a stranger to us, that did not matter. 
Most of us were comparative strangers to one another, 
and it is not customary to inquire into the character 
and family antecedents of passengers to Boston. 

When Doris made her suggestion to Dolor Tripp 
the eyes of the latter opened wide and sparkled. ^^Go 
to Boston ? ” she cried. ^Gn a ship ? W ith you ? Go ? 
Why, I would go if I had to sell my hair ! But Al- 
wilda will never agree. Lizeth may— I donT know ; 
but you canT move Alwilda'one inch. But don’t sup- 
pose I am not going,” she added quickly. ^^I^othing 
would ever happen if you waited for Alwilda to agree. 
When do you start ? ” 

^^We ought to set sail,” said Doris, ^^very soon after 
we get to the ship. I suppose all the water must be 
on board by this time.” 

^^Oh, dear!” said Dolor Tripp. ^^That would be 
dreadfully soon. I don’t see how I could manage it.” 

During our conversation with the young woman the 
butcher had been standing by, silent but observant. 
He now stepped forward. don’t believe, ma’am,” 

268 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


he said, addressing Doris, ^^tliat we can sail as soon as 
we get back. The skipper wants to go out on the 
ebb, and it must have been high tide two hours ago, 
so that by the time we are aboard and everythin^ is 
ready there wonT be much ebb-tide to go out on j and 
it won’t be high water again until after dark to-night. 
So you see Cap’n Timon is more than likely to want 
to wait till to-morrow mornin’, anyway.” 

^^Well,” said Doris, ‘There isn’t really any reason 
why we should be in a hurry. Boston will keep, I’ve 
no doubt. And if Captain Timon thinks it is better 
to wait until to-morrow morning, of course we can 
wait until then. Will that suit you?” she said to 
Dolor Trii:>i:), whose countenance was now glowing 
with excitement. 

“That will be time enough,” was the answer. “I 
shall know all about it this afternoon.” 

“Can you send us word,” asked Doris, “so we may 
know whether or not to expect you? ” 

Dolor Tripp looked a little embarrassed, but before 
she could speak the butcher said to her, “Have you a 
clock in your house ? ” 

“Of course we have,” she answered promptly. 

“Well, then,” said he, “if you will have a note 
ready at six o’clock precisely I’ll come here and get 
it.” 

“Very well,” said Dolor Tripp 5 “I’ll have it ready. 
It will be better for you to go to the lower end of the 
yard, and I’ll hand the note to you through the pal- 
ings. The gate is directly in front of the dining-room 
windows.” 

Lord Crabstairs and Lizeth now returned to us, his 
lordship having given up the idea of buying ducks, 

269 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


because there would be no way of allowing them to 
swim except by lowering them from the ship by 
means of a long cord^ and this would be feasible only 
when we were at anchor. The butcher and I now 
took up the coop containing the hen and chickens^ our 
disengaged hands each bearing a pair of fowls^ while 
his lordship carried the rest of the purchased poultry, 
gallantly declining to allow Doris to bear the weight 
of even the smallest pullet. 

We left behind us two hax)py sisters, one placidly 
smiling over the results of an unusually profitable 
sale, and the other glowing with the anticipation of 
unknown joys. 


270 


CHAPTER IX 


THE ^^MEERY CHANTER’’ AND THE TIDE 

A LITTLE before dark that afternoon the butcher ap- 
lieared before Doris and me on the after portion of 
the deck and made his report. 

got to that house,” he said, ^‘at a quarter before 
six ; and as I was a little ahead of time I waited out- 
side the pale-fence, keeping some bushes between me 
and the house. Pretty soon that Dolor sister came 
out and began walking straight down to the corner of 
the fence ; but before she got there the Lizeth sister 
she came out, and then the Dolor sister she turned 
straight toward the chicken-yard, and going inside 
the feed-house, she came out with her apron full of 
corn, and began feeding the chickens right and left 
like mad ; and the Lizeth sister she called out to her 
to stop wasting corn that way, and she went and took 
the corn from her and began to attend to the chickens 
herself. Then the Dolor sister she went walking 
about picking the weed blossoms, throwing ’em down 
again, and picking more, and all the time moving 
down toward the fence ; and the minute the Lizeth 
sister locked the poultry-yard and went into the 
house, the Dolor one came straight to the corner 
where she said she’d meet me, and there I was. She 

271 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


put tliis note between the palings, and says she, Ts 
there any way of getting a trnhk from this house to 
yonr ship to-night*?^ ^Unbeknown?’ says 1. ATs,’ 
said she j ^at least, nobody here must know it.^ ^ Then 
yon are going with ns to Boston?’ says I. ^Yes, in- 
deed, I am,’ says she ; ^ but there will be no trouble 
about me. It’s only the trunk.’ ^Then your sisters 
are not willing! ’ says I. ^They wouldn’t be if I told 
’em,’ says she, ^ and so I don’t intend to tell ’em. They 
haven’t the least right in the world over me, for I am 
of age ; but they’d make a lot of trouble if they knew 
I wanted to go to Boston, and I don’t want to have 
any more trouble than I can help having.’ ^When 
will your trunk be ready!’ says I, ^and where will it 
be ! ’ ^ There’s an empty one in a lower room,’ says 

she ; ^and after it gets pitch-dark I can put it outside 
by the back door, and then I can bring my things 
down and put them in it ; but I can’t move it after 
that.’ ^ At what time will it be all packed and locked 
and at the back door ! ’ says I. ^ Certainly by twelve 
o’clock,’ says she. ^Then at one o’clock,’ says I, 4t 
will be on board the ship.’ ^That is beautiful,’ says 
she ; ^ and as soon as the lower gate is unlocked for the 
hired man in the morning. I’ll walk through the 
chicken-yard and around the sand-hills till I am out 
of sight of the house, and then go straight to the 
shore.’ ^ Where there’ll be a boat to meet you,’ says 
I. Then she said she supposed I was the cap’n, and 
on being told not thanked me all the same and left 
sharp. And here’s the note.” 

With the exception of the statement that the writer 
would bring money to pay her passage, the note con- 
tained nothing that the butcher had not told us. 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


like her spirit,” said Doris. she is of age 
there is no reason why she shouldn’t go to Boston, or 
anywhere else she wants to. But how in the w^orld 
is her trunk to be got here*? The gates will be 
locked.” 

^^The schoolmaster and I,” said the butcher, ^^will 
attend to the trunk. He won’t be afraid to go on 
shore when it is pitch-dark, and I’ll take a bull’s-eye 
lantern to use when needed.” 

This being settled, Doris and I went below to 
arrange for the accommodation of the new-comer. 
There was a little cabin back of our own, which we 
appropriated to Dolor Tripp. Its space was extremely 
limited, but we could do no better for her. 

Lord Crabstairs had been so exceedingly busy in 
arranging accommodations for the poultry on the 
deck, and in endeavoring to entice from the rigging 
the cock which had first arrived on board, that he 
did not know of the arrangements that had been 
made for the transfer of the baggage of Dolor Tripp. 
Otherwise, as he informed us next morning, he would 
have been on hand, for a lark like that was much to 
his liking. 

The butcher and the schoolmaster must have had a 
hard time with the trunk, but they succeeded in get- 
ting it over the high fence, and by one o’clock, as had 
been promised, it was on board the Merry Chanter. 

Doris and I arose very early the next morning, and 
it could not have been more than half- past six when 
we beheld Dolor Tripp coming down to the shore 
with a parasol in one hand and a little leather bag in 
the other. Lord Crabstairs was standing near us, and 
the moment his eyes fell upon her he gave a jump. 

273 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


^T’ll take a boat and fetch her/^ said he. can 
do that much, anyway.’^ 

^^Stop cried Doris. do not think that would 
be fair. After all the butcher’s trouble about her he 
should have the pleasure of bringing her over in the 
boat.” 

don’t quite see the point of that,” said Lord 
Crabstairs. ^Turn about is fair play.’ ” 

^^That would be no turn about at all,” said Doris ; 
^^but we have no time to argue this matter, for Dolor 
Tripj) will get down to the water’s edge and find no- 
body to bring her over. So, as I command the Merry 
Chanter y and everybody in it, I am obliged to say to 
you. Lord Crabstairs, that you cannot go after that 
young woman unless the butcher is willing.” 

It struck me that this was a moment when a word 
from me seemed to be called for, but I could not make 
up my mind what sort of word to speak. 

Lord Crabstairs made a very low bow. ^Aladam,” 
said he, submit ; and I will go find the butcher and 
see if he will give me his chance.” 

In about a minute the butcher appeared from below, 
and made instant preparations to descend into the 
boat which was tied to the schooner’s stern. ^^It will 
be much better,” he said, ^^for some one who knows 
her to go after her. She may not like to be brought 
over by a stranger.” 

“Know her! Stranger! Bedad, I like that!” 
ejaculated Lord Crabstairs, as the butcher rowed away. 
“He rows very well for a butcher, now, doesn’t he? I 
don’t believe a man who rows as well as that can be a 
very good butcher. Now, do you, madam? ” 

“I do declare,” exclaimed Doris, without paying any 

274 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


attention to this inquiry, ^^she really does seem de- 
lighted to see him ! And I am so glad she has on that 
pretty straw hat. I was afraid she would come in her 
black-and-white siinbonnet.” 

The shore was but a short distance away, and very 
soon Dolor Tripp was on board the Merry Chanter. 
She was cordially received by the owners, the four 
captains, and the passengers, and shook hands all 
round. 

^^And now,’^ cried Doris, ^^we must up anchor, hoist 
sail, and be away without loss of time. I long to be 
out on the rolling deep.’^ 

But Captain Timon shook his head. ^^The tide 
doesn’t serve this mornin’, madam,” said he. 

^^Oh, bother the tide !” cried Doris. never saw 
anything like it. But I beg you will make a start the 
instant it does serve.” And with this she took Dolor 
Tripp down below to show her the arrangements that 
had been made for her accommodation. 

Lord Crabstairs, who was an active fellow, now 
mounted aloft to compel the truant cock to get down 
from its elevated position in the rigging, while the 
schoolmaster, carrying the sandpiper in its cage, ap- 
peared on deck and proceeded to give the usual morn- 
ing attentions to the wounded bird. 

The butcher, his hands in his pockets and an ex- 
pression of earnest thought on his face, came after me. 
Meeting me at the extreme stern of the vessel, he said 
in a low voice : ^^Do you know that I have got some 
ideas about this schooner? AVe have been lying here 
more than three days, and in all that time I don’t 
believe she’s moved around with the tide any more 
than that stump there on shore has moved around 

275 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


with it. Tide in and tide ont^ twice a day each way, 
and she’s been lying here with her bowsprit pointing 
out to sea and her rudder pointing in to shore, with 
never a shift one way or the other. Now, it stands to 
reason, I take it, that if a schooner like this could 
move with the tide she would move with it ; and as she 
doesn’t move with it, it stands to reason she can’t 
move with it.” 

never thought of that ! ” I exclaimed in surprise. 
^^But, since yon speak of it, I believe it is so. What 
do you suppose it means ” 

Means'?” replied the butcher, looking around him 
and speaking in lower tones. ^M’ll tell you what I 
believe it means. I think that we are stuck fast to 
the bottom of this bay. When they first came in 
they put out their anchor, and then the schooner, 
most likely, swung around on to a sand-bar, and stuck 
tight and fast. If she hasn’t done that, what’s to 
hinder her moving with the tide “? ” 

^^Bnt the captains?” I said. ^Mf the ship were 
aground they would mention it. They would do 
something.” 

^^They are not much on the mention,” said the 
butcher, ^^and as to do, they’ve been hoping every 
high tide would float her off. I would have been on 
deck this morning when the Dolor sister showed on 
shore if I hadn’t been listening to the cap’ ns’ talk 
about some particular high tide that comes with a 
particular quarter of the moon. I was called off, and 
didn’t make out what quarter it was, but I believe 
they’re waiting for it.” 

^Mf that is the case,” said I, hope most earnestly 
that it is not far off.” 


THE MERRY CHANTER 

‘‘There’s no knowing/’ said the butcher^ rather 
Ingnbrionsly. “I don’t care to ask ’em about it, for 
it’s their business to sail the ship, not mine. But 
there’s one thing I do know, and that is, when an old 
schooner like this, with some seventy cart-loads of pav- 
ing-stones inside of her, and barnacles outside that 
will weigh about as much, settles on a sand-bank, 
she’ll want a special high tide to come along at its 
earliest convenience if she ever expects to float at 
all.” 

I gazed gloomily over the stern. The little boat 
was gently pulling at her painter as the tide impelled 
her seaward, but the Merry Chanter kept its position 
like a Horse Guard on sentry duty. “At any rate,” I 
said, “it will be of no use to worry the ladies with our 
conjectures.” 

“I am with you there,” said the butcher. “It 
wouldn’t be my way to trouble them or anybody else. 
But it strikes me that we’ll And things pretty crooked 
when we eat up all our proAUsions before we’ve sailed 
an inch to Boston, and the news gets around that 
we’re aground in Shankashank Bay, and Mrs. Bodship 
comes after the schoolmaster, and either carries him 
off, and perhaps Cap’n Cyrus too, or else stays on 
board herself, which would be an CA^erlasting sight 
worse, and the Alwilda sister and the Lizeth sister 
come after Dolor Tripp, and Lord Crabstairs gets kid- 
napped for the family debts while wandering on 
shore.” 


277 


CHAPTER X 


LORD CRABSTAIRS AND THE BUTCHER 
MAKE AN AGREEMENT 

When Dolor Tripx> came on deck after breakfast on 
the morning of her arrival on board the Merry Chanter 
she was in a state of intense delight with her sur- 
roundings. She was going to sea in a ship ! She 
had been on the bay in a boat, but never on the sea 
in a ship ! And what w^as this for— and that? And 
how different the air was, even such a little wa^y from 
shore ! 

When Doris told her how we came to own the Merry 
Chanter^ and had talked to her about the four captains, 
and about the butcher, and about Lord Crabstairs, and 
about the schoolm^ister, Dolor Trij^p declared that 
that shij) was the most interesting place she had ever 
been in in her whole life. 

She was in no hurry to start, and was perfectly will- 
ing to wait for the tide. Being on board the ship w^as 
joy enough for the present. She asked questions about 
every part of the vessel ; and although the four cap- 
tains would have been the proper persons to answer 
these questions, these exj^erienced mariners were not 
iillow^ed the opportunity of so doing. Lord Crabstairs 

278 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


and tlie butcher always happened to be near at hand 
when Dolor Tripp wanted to know anything ; and 
sometimes both answered her question in the same 
instant, while sometimes one got a little ahead of the 
other. 

Toward noon, however, I noticed that Dolor Tripp 
was walking about the after portion of the ship accom- 
panied only by Lord Crabstairs, and soon afterward 
I found that he and the butcher had come to an agree- 
ment on the subject. A chalk line had been drawn 
across the deck midway between the bow and the 
stern, and it had been settled that Lord Crabstairs 
should explain to Dolor Tripp everything aft of that 
line, while the butcher should have the privilege of 
being her guide over that portion of the schooner 
which lay forward of the line. By this amicable ar- 
rangement annoying interferences would be avoided. 

Lord Crabstairs, with his glowing, ruddy face, and 
his sparkling blue eyes, was in a very good humor as 
he told his companion everything he knew about the 
after portion of the ship, and a great deal, I am sure, 
that he did not know. But want of knowledge did 
not interfere in the least with the fluency of his merry 
talk, nor with her enjoyment. 

For some time the butcher had been below, but now 
he came up and informed Doris and me that he had 
been consulting with Captain Cyrus, and getting as 
much information as possible in regard to foremasts 
and bowsprits, with their attachments and surround- 
ings, so that when his turn to guide the young woman 
should come he would be able to give her points that 
might be depended upon. When he and Lord Crab- 
stairs had tossed up for the two portions into which 

279 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


the ship had been divided by the chalk line he had 
been very glad that the bow end had fallen to him. 

Passengers/’ said he^ ^^are mostly at sterns, and 
bows are newer to them. And, besides, the Merry 
Chanter is on my end, and I intend to come out strong 
on that dilapidated old party. I think she’s the kind 
of young woman to take to things that are on the 
romantic.” 

But he did not intend to begin with her as soon as 
Lord Crabstairs had finished. No, indeed ! He was 
too deep for that ! He would take her when she was 
fresh, and not so bored with ropes and spars that she 
did not wish to hear such things even so much as men- 
tioned. 

It was yet early in the afternoon, and we were en- 
joying ourselves idly on deck, some reading, some 
smoking and talking, and nearly all of us in the shade 
of the mainsail, which had been partly hoisted to 
serve the purpose of an awning. Even the butcher 
was content to gaze quietly out at sea, for, in his opin- 
ion, Dolor Tripp had not yet sufficiently recovered 
from her ordeal of the morning properly to enjoy his 
interesting accounts of the nautical objects forward of 
the chalk line. Suddenly there came from landward 
a shrill voice ; and the voice cried, ^^Do— lo r ! ” 

Instantly we all sprang to our feet, bobbed under 
the boom, and ran for the stern of the schooner. On 
shore, close to the water’s edge, stood a woman in a 
black-and-white sunbonnet, who was easily recognized 
by those who had seen her before as Lizeth of the 
poultry-yard. 

Again came the voice across the water : ^^Dol— or ! 
Are you on that ship ? ” 


280 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


Dolor Tripp stood on tiptoe and showed herself well 
above the bulwarks. ^^DonT you see me, Lizeth?’^ 
she cried. 

The distance between the ship and the shore was not 
great, and as there was but little wind, the clear, high 
voices of the sisters were distinctly heard across the 
intervening space. 

^^Where-are-you-going'? ’’ cried Lizeth. 

^^I-am-going-to-Boston,” replied her sister. 

^^How-long-do-you-expect-to-stay ? ” cried Lizeth. 

Dolor Tripp turned to Doris. ^^How long do you 
think,” she said, ^^that the ship will stay in Boston? 
You know I want to come back in it.” 

‘^1 really do not know,” was the answer, ^‘but we 
shall certainly stay long enough to take on board some 
barrels of flour.” 

Then Dolor Tripp turned her face shoreward, and 
hailed her sister. ^^I-do-not-know,” she cried. ^Tt- 
depends-on-flour.” 

^AVhat-flour? ” screamed Lizeth. 

Dolor Tripp turned inquiringly. Minnesota 
Family Joy,” said I, for want of better information 
to give. 

^^Min-ne-so-ta-Fam-i-ly- Joy,” screamed Dolor Tripp. 

Lizeth did not immediately resume her questions, 
but after a few moments’ thought she cried, ^^Why- 
don’t-you-start ? ” 

^ ^ There - is - some - thing - the - matter - with - the- tide,” 
replied Dolor Tripp. 

Here there was another pause in this high-strung 
conversation, and several persons on board the Merry 
Chanter looked at one another and smiled. 

Lizeth now called out again, ^^Will-you-get-me-in- 

281 


THE MERRY CHANTER 

Boston - four - yards -of - tlie-incli- wide-black-and-white- 
ribbon?^’ 

^^I-will ! ’’ cried Dolor Tripp. ^‘Does-Alwilda-know- 
Pve-gone ? 

^‘Yes/’ called back Lizetli. ^^She’s -begun -paint- 
ing-you-on-the-dining-room-wall. You-are-stretched- 
out - drowned - on - the - sea - shore. Y our - face - is - all- 
soaked - and - there’s -little-slimy- green - weeds - flappin’- 
against-it. She'-was-just-beginnin’-to -paint-a-puddle- 
under-you-when-I-came-away. Good-by ! ” 

^^Now, isn’t that mean?” said Dolor Tripp, turning 
a troubled countenance toward us ; and then, sud- 
denly recollecting herself, she called after her depart- 
ing sister a shrill “Good-by ! ” 

“I notice,” remarked the butcher, as he cast a severe 
look shoreward, “that she didn’t say anything about 
the weeds and the puddle till she’d got in her black- 
and-white ribbon.” 

In order to dissipate from her mind all thoughts of 
the dismal picture of herself which was in course of 
creation upon the dining-room wall of her home, the 
butcher now invited Dolor Tripp to allow him to show 
her that portion of the Merry Chanter which lay for- 
ward of the chalk line. The invitation was accepted, 
and from the general appearance of things forward I 
think that Dolor Trij)p’s enjoyment was troubled by 
no visions of soaked countenances. 

The captains were on the forecastle, and as they all 
knew something about Dolor Tripp or her family, 
they had frequent snatches of talk about her. Lord 
Crabstairs and the schoolmaster took to wandering 
about the bow, but the former never uttered a word. 
He had agreed that the butcher should take charge 

282 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


of the lady on this part of the ship, and he religiously 
forbore to speak. 

When the butcher and his fair companion leaned 
over the extreme bow, and he began to describe and 
descant upon the wooden figure of the Merry Chanter, 
Doris, who had gone forward, requested permission to 
listen, which being cheerfully granted, we all gathered 
about the speaker. 

It is astonishing how well that butcher talked about 
our old figurehead. He let himself out splendidly 
about roaring winds and mountain waves, and driving 
rain and freezing sleet, and banks of blinding fog, and 
yet ever that right arm, or what there was left of it, 
was stuck straight out, and that head was thrown 
back boldly, and that mouth was open ready for song 
or shout, or to take in sea- water, as the case might be. 

^^He has been through it all, time and again,’’ said 
the butcher, in conclusion, ^^and he is ready for it all 
over again, fair weather or foul, as long as those iron 
bolts through his body hold him fast to the ship.” 

love him already,” cried Dolor Tripp ; ^^and as 
soon as we begin to plough the waves I am going to 
stand in front here and see him do those things.” 

^^Of course,” remarked Captain Timon, ^That will 
depend on the principal owner ’’—waving his hand 
toward Doris. have heard her say that she wanted 
to stand abaft the figurehead when there happened 
to be a good sea on.” 

^^Oh, there will be room for us both,” said Doris, 
who had already begun to take very kindly to Dolor 
Tripp. 


283 


CHAPTER XI 


THE PROMENADE BATH 

The next morning, after breakfast, Captain Timon 
made a little speech to the assembled ship’s company. 
‘^1 feel bound,” he said, ^^to tell you all that I’ve been 
disapp’inted in the wind an’ the tide. They are two 
things which won’t wait fur no man, but they’re willin’ 
enough to make any man wait fur them, an’ that’s not 
what I call the square thing.” 

^^You are right there, captain,” said Lord Crab- 
stairs ; ^^but the rascals have been at it all their lives, 
and it is too late to try to reform them.” 

^^This schooner,” continued the captain, ^‘draws a 
leetle more water than we thought she did. You see, 
none of us ever sailed in her before, an’ she draws a 
leetle more water than we thought she did. An’ then 
ag’in, there’s a leetle less water in this bay than there 
generally is at this season. You see, when we an- 
chored here to get water out of that spring we didn’t 
know that the shij) drawed so much an’ the bay was 
so low.” 

^^Then,” interrupted Lord Crabstairs, ^^you should 
get more water out of your spring and pour it into 
your bay.” 


284 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


Captain Timon joined in the laugh that followed 
this remark, and then went on : 

^‘What we want is a high wind, pretty nigh to a 
gale, cornin’ in from sea along with the flood tide. 
That will give ns enough water to get out of this bay, 
an’ then we’re all right. That half-gale from the 
son’east is what we’re a-waitin’ fur.” 

^^That sort of gale,” said the butcher, ^^most gen- 
erally comes in the fall of the year.” 

^^That is autumn, isn’t it?” cried Lord Crabstairs. 
^^I^ow, really, that is three months off!” 

^^If you’d sailed the sea as much as we have,” said 
Cai^tain Timon, addressing the butcher, ^^you’d have 
knowed that them gales blows whenever they’ve a 
mind to. That’s their rule ; whenever they’ve a mind 
to. Now, there’s just two things we can do ; an’ one of 
them is to get a vessel that don’t draw so much water. 
Cap’n Teel has got one to hire. She’s a sloop, and a 
good one. He can bring her round here, an’ we can 
put our stores into her, an’ sail to Boston without no 
trouble at all.” 

At this i^oint there was a general outcry. ^^Sail in 
another ship ! ” cried Doris. Never ! It is not the 
voyage to Boston I care about j it is the voyage there 
in our Merry Chanter."’^ 

I joined in the remonstrance. Lord Crabstairs 
vowed that he was in no hurry, and could wait for a 
wind as long as anybody else. And Dolor Tripj) 
asserted with considerable warmth that if she could 
not sail behind that bold wooden singer of the sea 
she did not wish to sail at all. 

The butcher had been gazing intently upon first 
one and then another of us ; and when Dolor Tripp 

285 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


had said her say he spoke out fully and definitely, 
stick to the ship/’ said he. 

The schoolmaster made no remark. He was not 
now so uneasy as he had been at first, but it was plain 
enough that he wished to sail away, no matter in 
what vessel. 

^‘Well, then,” continued Captain Timon, ^^as none 
of you seems to want to leave the schooner, there’s 
another thing you can do : you can just make your- 
selves comfortable an’ wait fur the gale with a flood- 
tide. Some of you can take the boat an’ go fishin’ ; 
some of you can walk about on shore j an’ if any 
of you wants to hire a horse, you can do it over 
there in the village. If there’s a special high tide 
when you are not aboard. I’ll just run the schooner 
out into deeper water an’ fire a gun and wait fur 
you.” 

This plan was instantaneously agreed upon, and to 
prove that we were perfectly contented with the 
Merry Chnntery we all set about to amuse ourselves. 

Lord Crabstairs went to look after his poultry. 
These were mostly scattered about the deck, none of 
them having courage to fly overboard ; but some had 
gone out on the bowsprit, and the truant cock was 
still in the rigging. His master had vainly endeavored 
to coax him down, and was obliged to put his corn on 
the crosstrees, where it was contentedly pecked up. 
Boris applied herself to the care of her little chicks and 
their mother ; three of the captains went ashore in 
the boat ; the butcher was making some remarks to 
me in regard to the improbability of the schooner’s 
moving from her present position without leaving 
behind her her hold, her paving-stones, and her bar- 

286 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


nacles ; and wliat Dolor Tripp was looking at in the 
water I do not know, but suddenly her little boots, in 
which she was standing tiptoe, slipped backward, and 
in an instant she disappeared over the side of the 
vessel. 

I gave a shout and rushed for the spot where she 
had been leaning over the bulwark. Doris, startled 
by the great splash, was by my side in a moment. 
Looking down with pallid faces, we saw below us 
what appeared like the surface of a boiling pot some 
five feet wide. Out of the tossing turmoil of the 
water now arose the dripping head, shoulders, and 
arms of Dolor Tripp, who had succeeded in struggling 
to her feet, and who stood upright, puffing and blowing 
the water from her mouth, wildly waving her hands, 
and endeavoring to scream. 

In the next instant there were two great splashes, 
and the butcher and Lord Crabstairs went overboard. 
Each of them was under water for an instant, and 
then, emerging upright, they swashed toward the drip- 
ping maiden, and each took her by an arm. 

^^You are as safe now,” exclaimed Lord Crabstairs, 
sputtering as he spoke, ^ffis if you were high and dry 
on shore.” 

Unless we sink in the sand,” said the butcher. 

But Dolor Tripp paid no attention to similes and 
suppositions. ^ ^ Oh, get me out !” she cried. Get me 
out ! ” 

Those of us who were on deck soon discovered that 
it would not be easy to get her out. There was one 
broad ladder with hand-rails by which we descended 
into or ascended from the one boat which belonged to^ 
the Merry Chanter, and this ladder had been taken 

287 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


ashore in the boat by the three captains who had gone 
for fuel, and who proposed to use it when sawing off 
such lower branches of trees as might be small enough 
to suit their purpose. The idea that anybody might 
want the ladder while they were gone never entered 
the minds of these wood-cutting mariners. 

Captain Teel, who was left on board, was not very 
fertile in expedients. He proposed hauling ux) the 
young woman by means of a rox)e ; and when the 
butcher declared that if this were done she would be 
cut to pieces by the barnacles, the captain suggested 
that if a spar were put out at an angle, with one end 
held down to the bottom and the other resting on the 
side of the vessel, she might climb on board without 
touching the barnacles. 

This proj^osition meeting with no approval, the 
captain stated that the x)roper thing to do was to x^ut 
a block and tackle out at the end of a boom and haul 
her up that way, but that as he was the only seaman 
on board, he did not like to undertake this job by 
himself. He might put a barrel of fish on board that 
way, but it would take a good deal of careful hauling 
and steering to X3revent a dangling young woman from 
getting bumped. He rather guessed that the boat 
would be back x)retty soon, and that the best thing to 
do would be to wait for it. 

This seemed like hard lines for Dolor Tripp, and I 
suggested that the three should wade to shore. 

^^They can’t do that,” said Captain Teel. ^^The 
water is deeper nearer shore than it is just here. If 
they go a dozen yards from the schooner it will be 
over their heads. We’ve made soundin’s.” 

suppose,” said Doris to the group in the water, 

288 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


^That you will liave to wait till the boat comes ; but 
you ought to walk about to keep from taking cold.’^ 

^ Yery goocl/^ said Lord Crabstairs ; and releasing 
his hold upon Dolor Tripp, he offered his arm in the 
usual fashion. The butcher, on her other side, did 
the same, and the three began their walk through the 
water. 

^^You can go all around the ship,’’ said Captain 
Teel, you don’t get too far away from her, and I 
guess you’ll find the bottom pretty hard and smooth.” 

The tide was very low, the water being not more 
than waist-deep for the men and below the shoulders 
of Dolor Tripp ; but it was quite deep enough to make 
walking a very slow performance. But as the young 
woman put perfect faith in the ability of her protec- 
tors, and as the two men were greatly pleased to have 
this opportunity of aiding and protecting her, the 
spirits of the little party recovered their usual level 
as they pushed their way through the water. On 
deck, Doris and I, with Captain Teel and the school- 
master, kept pace with them, the latter carrying a 
plank which he intended to hurl to or upon Dolor 
Tripp in case of danger, such as a tidal wave or an 
attack by sharks. 

like it ever so much!” cried Dolor Tripp to 
Doris. ^^It is a promenade bath. The water is warm 
and lovely.” 

Reaching the bow of the ship. Dolor Tripp looked 
up at the Merry Chanter. 

never expected,” she said, ^^to be under him and 
look at him from the sea. I wonder if I could climb 
up to him by this anchor-chain ” 

^^Don’t try it, miss,” said Lord Crabstairs. ^^If you 

289 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


ever climb up to anybody, don’t let it be to a wooden- 
beaded old party like that.” 

^^When it comes to that sort of thing,” said the 
butcher, ^^the climbing will be the other way.” 

Perhaps Dolor Tripp did not understand this re- 
mark, for she made no answer to it. As they moved 
on she said : 

^^How gently these little waves lap up against us ! 
Do you gentlemen believe in mind- waves ” 

don’t know what they are,” said the butcher. 

^‘Tf you mean a wavering of the mind,” answered 
Lord Crabstairs, have had it often ; particularly 
when I bought my last cow. I wavered between 
Alderney and Ayrshire for nearly a month, and, after 
all, I bought a Devon.” 

^^Oh, it isn’t anything like that,” said the young 
woman. It is a sort of understanding between minds 
that are far away from each other. It comes along in 
a sort of airy waves, something like these ripples, I 
suppose, and the thoughts and feelings of one friend 
go to another ever so far off.” 

^^Oh, I know what it is!” cried Lord Crabstairs. 
^^You can do it with snails. You go to China and 
take a she-snail with you, and I stay here with a he- 
snail, or vice versa. I can go to China with either, and 
you can keep the other — ” 

^^Do they have to be a married couple, to begin 
with?” interrupted the butcher. 

^AYhat ! The people! ” cried Lord Crabstairs. 

^^No, the snails,” said the butcher. 

^^Yes,” replied the other. ^^I forgot to say they 
must be a pair, so that there shall be a sympathy 
between them.” Then, again addressing the lady : 

290 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


^^You have one snail and I the other one, and we’ve 
got the whole world between ns. Whichever of us 
wishes to communicate with the other takes a pin and 
jabs his or her snail, as the case may be, and in that 
very same instant the other snail wiggles.” 

^^Horrible ! ” cried Dolor Tripp. I had to do 
that I would never communicate.” 

don’t believe it hurts them,” said Lord Crab- 
stairs. ^^The least little bit of a prick will do. And 
we could get up a jab alphabet : one short jab, a long 
jab, two short jabs, with a rest between them — three 
long jabs, a rest and a short jab, and so on.” 

never would do it,” said Dolor Tripp, firmly. 
^‘1 wouldn’t even watch wiggles that were made by 
pins in China.” 

The butcher did not wish to be left out of this con- 
versation. ^^That must be pretty much the same 
thing,” he said, ^^as is the case with the legs of frogs. 
You catch a dozen frogs, and put their hind legs on a 
plate, all skinned and ready to be cooked, arranged in 
a circle with their toes pointing out like the spokes 
in a wheel, and then you sprinkle some salt on them, 
and every one of those legs begins to kick. If you 
never saw it before you’ll drop the plate.” 

^^That is not like my snails at all ! ” cried Lord Crab- 
stairs. ^^A person in China couldn’t sprinkle salt on 
frog-legs here. If he were near enough to do that he 
might as well talk. I don’t see any sense in that sort 
of thing, even allowing that your frog-legs do kick.” 

^^I don’t see any sense in the other sort of thing,” 
said the butcher, ^^even if your snails do wiggle.” 

At this Dolor Tripp declared that her correspond 
ence should always be either by letter or by tele- 

291 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


graph, j and she began to wonder when the boat would 
return. We all strained our eyes shoreward, but 
nothing could be seen of the nautical wood-cutters, 
and the three in the water were obliged to continue 
their stroll around the vessel. 

Captain Teel now made a joke which for some time 
had been resolving itself into form in his mind. ^^She 
calls it a promenade bath,’’ he said, with a subdued 
giggle, ^‘but to me it looks a good deal more like a 
promenade baptize. That butcher in his shirt looks 
just like a minister with a pair of uncommon sinners.” 

I had noticed that every time the party passed 
under the bow the butcher looked very attentively at 
his disengaged arm, which hung down by his side. 
Having caught my eye, he now turned back a little, 
and held up his hand with his forefinger and thumb 
separated about two inches. He then pointed toward 
the surface of the water, and after that let his arm 
drop again. 

The meaning of this pantomime was very plain to 
me. He had been measuring the depth of the water 
by some mark on his sleeve, and the tide had risen 
two inches. He wanted me to know that he was get- 
ting uneasy. I began to grow uneasy also. I would 
have been better pleased had not the butcher always 
-chosen me as the recipient of his forebodings. 

But there was no reason for anxiety, for, as the 
hour for dinner drew nigh, the three captains emerged 
from the woods, two of them carrying the ladder and 
the other a bundle of sticks. Dolor Tripp and her 
companions were then near the bow of the vessel, and 
concealed from view of persons on shore. By the 
time the boat had nearly reached the schooner the 

292 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


three water- walkers came around the how, and there 
never were more astonished mariners than our cap- 
tains when they beheld the three heads and shoul- 
ders which apparently floated toward them. Captain 
Cyrus, who held the tiller, was so startled that he 
nearly fell overboard, and in their sudden consterna- 
tion the two others allowed a few words of the swearing 
variety to escape from their lips — the first we had 
heard from them since they had entered our service. 

^^Now, you see,” said Lord Crabstairs to Dolor Tripp, 
^4f those sailors had taken a snail with them and we 
had had a snail, we could have let them know what 
was the matter, and they would have turned back 
immediately and taken us out of the water. Every 
ship should carry a lot of snails, in case the people on 
board get separated.” 

The butcher shrugged his shoulders, but evidently 
saw no way of bringing his frogs’ legs to the fore. 

Our friends were soon on board and in dry clothes, 
and when the butcher appeared on deck he took me 
to one side and remarked : ^^As I was walking round 
this ship I made up my mind it wouldn’t be long be- 
fore her barnacles grew down into the sand-bank— 
that is, if they grow that way ; and when that happens, 
and taking into consideration the seventy cart-loads 
of paving-stones in her hold, she’ll have a pretty strong 
foundation. But of course there’s no use saying any- 
thing of that kind to the ladies, especially if they’re 
beginning to feel as if they’d like to be getting on to 
Boston.” 


293 


CHAPTER XII 


DOLOR TRIPP TAKES US UNDER HER WING 

The gloomy remarks of the butcher in regard to the 
permanency of the Merry Chanter'’ s position had a cer- 
tain effect upon me. I did not agree with him, for I 
had full faith in the knowledge and experience of our 
skipper, and believed that when the exceptional gale 
and the exceptional tide came along together our ship 
would float off the sand-bank and sail out of Shanka- 
shank Bay. But the continual allusions of the butcher 
to our barnacles and our seventy cart-loads of paving - 
stones could but depress me. It would require such a 
very high tide and such a very strong gale to move us. 
As we had started for Boston, I wanted to go there. 

Doris, to my surprise, appeared to have become 
reeonciled to the delay. Of course, as she had started 
for Boston, she wanted to go there ; but, as she several 
times remarked, she did not wish to be unreasonable. 
She knew there were many delays connected with 
voyages on sailing-vessels, such as calms, head-winds, 
and the like, and she supposed the cause of our present 
detention was equivalent to a calm. With this view 
Captain Timon coincided. 

She had begun to feel at home in Shankashank Bay, 
and so long as she had to stay she determined to make 

294 


THE MERRY CHANTER 

the best of it. And in this resolve she was joined by 
the rest of the ship’s company. 

Lord Crabstairs could sing a good song, and he sang 
a great many. The butcher had a deep and earnest 
voice, and with this he joined in choruses. The rest 
of us also did our duty in this line, according to our 
abilities. The schoolmaster conducted spelling-bees ; 
Doris told stories, which she did excellently well ; and 
I delivered one lecture on ^^The Analysis of Lava.” 
The only person, however, who appeared to be much 
interested in the subject was Lord Crabstairs, who 
inquired if there were any volcanoes near Boston. I 
think this question was inspired by a glimmer of hope 
in regard to the lifting of the hereditary debts of his 
family ; for when I told him that there were no vol- 
canoes near the port to which we were bound, he fixed 
his eyes upon the back of Dolor Tripp, and, I am sure, 
gave no further thought to lava. 

On the second day after the water promenade a 
picnic on shore was proposed ; and immediately after 
dinner the two ladies, with myself, the butcher. Lord 
Crabstairs, and the schoolmaster, went on shore. The 
latter declined at first to be of our party, for fear that 
Mrs. Bodship might catch sight of him ; but as the 
butcher lent him a gown and a high silk hat, he was 
convinced that he might go with us without danger 
of being recognized— at least, at a distance. He took 
with him the sandpiper in its cage ; for, although the 
bird was well on its way to recovery, he considered 
it not yet able to take care of itself. 

Our plan was to go some distance inland, eat our 
supper at an appropriate rural spot, and, returning to 
the shore at the close of the day, take a moonlight row 

295 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


on Sliaukasliank Bay. This was to be long or short, 
according to our pleasure, and when it was over we 
would return to the Merry Chanter. We invited any 
of the captains who chose to accompany us, but they 
all declined. The exceptional gale might come in 
with the tide, and in that case they should all be on 
board to take the schooner out into deeper water. 

We rambled about two miles inland, and our little 
excursion was enjoyed by all of us until we were pre- 
paring to return to the shore after having eaten our 
supper. Then a sudden rain-storm burst upon us, and 
we ceased to enjoy the excursion. Hastily gathering 
up our baskets and wraps, we ran for the nearest 
house ; but as this was about a quarter of a mile away, 
we were well wet before we got there. 

Even when we reaehed it we found it a poor place 
of refuge. It was a very small house, and there was 
nobody at home but a boy and girl, who, I am sure, 
would not have admitted us if we had knocked at the 
main door. But as we rushed pell-mell into the kit- 
chen from the back of the house, they had no option 
in regard to our entrance. The girl, however, locked 
the door of the front or best room, so that we should 
not go in there with our wet feet and clothes, and we 
were obliged to bestow ourselves as well as we could 
in the little kitchen, in which there was one ehair. 
There was no fire, and the girl deelared there was no 
need of making one until her mother came with the 
supper, and that she would not eome until the rain 
was over. Had we been able to diseover any fuel we 
would have made the fire ourselves ; but as we saw 
none, we merely stood about and grumbled. 

The heavy clouds which had come up so fast from 

296 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


behind the woods in which we had supped brought 
darkness upon us at least an hour before we expected 
it, and the rain continued to fall steadily. When we 
had spent half an hour or more in the dismal little 
kitchen, Dolor Tripp spoke up. 

^^It will never do to stay here,’^ she said. ^^We shall 
take our deaths of cold. Our house is not a mile away, 
and the best thing we can do is to go there. We are 
so wet now that we might as well be wetter, and when 
we get to the house we can warm and dry ourselves 
and stay until the rain is over.’^ 

The suggestion was accepted instantly, and heaping 
coals of fire upon the heads of the youngsters by giv- 
ing them some small change, we tramped out into the 
storm. Dolor Tripp declared that, dark as it was, she 
knew she could find the way, for the road to her home 
was a moderately direct one, having but few turns ; 
and, supported by Lord Crabstairs and the butcher, 
she led the way. 

The road might have been direct enough and smooth 
enough if we could have kept in the middle of it j but 
the sides on which, without intending it, we did most 
of our walking were very rough, and as we frequently 
ran against the fences on either side. Dolor Tripp de- 
clared that she believed that the roads were a good 
deal narrower by night than by day. But during our 
slow and stumbling progress we cheered ourselves with 
two reflections— we were getting nearer and nearer to 
a sheltering roof, and the exercise was keeping us from 
taking cold. 

After walking for what seemed to me a very long- 
time, Dolor Tripp remarked that she believed that 
she had passed a fork in the road where we should 

297 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


have turned to the right, and that we must go back a 
little. We went back ; but after stumbling and splash- 
ing and peering about for nearly a quarter of an hour, 
our guide said that she now believed we had not passed 
the fork, and we might as well keep on. 

We kept on and on and on, and at last we came to 
a fork, — which the butcher discovered,— and then we 
turned to the right. The rain now began to slacken, 
the clouds grew a little thinner, and a diluted and 
shadowed moonlight enabled us better to find our 
way. I asserted that I believed it would be well to 
change our course, and, instead of going to the Tripp 
house, turn shoreward and get back to the schooner as 
soon as possible. 

This proposition, however, met with no favor. The 
others declared that as the road to the shore would 
from this point lead us over fields and sand-hills, we 
should be lost, and should miserably perish ; whereas, 
from the Tripp house to the boat-landing we all knew 
the way, which, moreover, we need not take until we 
had dried ourselves and rested. 

AVe therefore pressed on ; and as we could now see 
the roadway, which, although sloppy, was compara- 
tively smooth, we made fair progress, and after a time 
the house of our destination loomed up dark before us. 
As we made our way to the front gate Dolor Tripp 
remarked : ^^Of course they are abed and asleep, for 
they always go to bed early, and the gate must be 
locked.’^ 

^^But I hope they will get up and open it,’’ said I. 

^^Not Alwilda and Lizeth,” she said. ^^You wouldn’t 
think that if you knew them. They wouldn’t unlock 
the gate after dark, even if they were up j and as to 

298 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


getting out of bed to do it, they’d let Queen Victoria 
stand here and wait till morning.” 

For some time I had been in a bad humor, and I 
now felt very much provoked. ^^It might have been 
well,” I said, ^4f you had thought of all this before 
you brought us here.” 

did, partly,” said Dolor Tripp. ^^That is, I 
thought it would be just as well that they should be in 
bed and asleep when we got here, for I know Alwilda 
will talk dreadfully to me about going to Boston, and 
perhaps talk me out of it ; but I didn’t happen to 
think that if they were not up we might not get in.” 

There is no need bothering about the gate,” quickly 
spoke up the butcher. can make an opening in 
this fence, and not hurt it, either. And when we get 
inside the yard I exi)ect we can find some window or 
door unfastened. There always is in country houses.” 

Dolor Tripp replied that if he did not hurt the fence 
she thought that would be a good plan, and in a few 
minutes the butcher had felt along the fence and 
found a place where the pales were somewhat loose 
by reason of age. He and Lord Crabstairs then pulled 
five or six of them from their bottom fastenings and 
pushed them to one side, so that the party easily 
entered. 

* The butcher enjoined us to make as little noise as 
possible. It was natural that he should not wish to 
wake up a woman who might talk Dolor Tripp into 
not going to Boston. Then he said he would go by him- 
self round the house and try the shutters and doors. 

^^You needn’t do that,” said Dolor Tripp. ^^There 
isn’t a door or a window on the lower floor that isn’t 
bolted, or locked, or barred, or screwed up.” 

299 


I 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


There was a little murmur among us. The rain 
had almost ceased, but we were tired, wet, and miser- 
able, and what we wanted above all things was to rest 
ourselves before a fire. The situation was dishearten- 
ing, and as for Doris and me, we did not care whether 
the sisters were wakened or not, so that we got in and 
were warmed. 

^‘ril knock at the door,’^ said I, ^^and make some one 
come down and open it.’^ 

Dolor Tripp held up a warning hand. ^^Don’t do 
that,” she said. Alwilda has a gun. I’ve thought of 
a way to get in. Do you see that pine-tree at the 
corner of the house ? That is the tree that I expected 
the burglars to climb up when I used to sit and watch 
for them. And if a burglar could do it, I should think 
some one else could ; and then he could easily push 
up the sash of that window and get in, and go through 
the room into the hall and down the stairs, and take 
down the bar from this door and unlock it, and let 
us in.” 

^^I’ll do it ! ” said the butcher, the moment she had 
finished speaking ; and, without delay, he advanced 
toward the tree. 

would climb up and go in myself,” said Lord Crab- 
stairs, ^^but I am not sure that I understand these 
American houses.” 

The butcher took off his gown, which clung to him 
like a wet shroud, and casting it upon the grass, he 
began to ascend the tree. This he did easily and 
rapidly, the horizontal branches affording him con- 
venient hold for foot and hand. Very soon he was 
inside the house, and we listened anxiously, fearing 
that we might hear a noisy stumbling and the report 

300 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


of Alwilda’s gun. But we heard no noise at all ; and 
after what seemed an unnecessarily protracted period 
of waiting, the front door quietly opened. 

didn’t strike the stairs at first,” whispered the 
butcher, ^^and I went too far along that upper hall ; 
but when I came against a door that was partly open 
I knew I was wrong, and turned back.” 

^^Mercy!” gasped Dolor Tripp. ^^That was their 
room ! ” 

We all now entered, and the butcher gently closed 
the door behind us. There was an unshuttered win- 
dow at the other end of the hall, through which came 
enough dim light to enable us faintly to discern one 
another and surrounding objects. 

^^ni go first,” whispered Dolor Tripp, ^^and take 
you to the old part of the house.” 

So saying, she led us, all stepping as softly as we 
could, to the transverse hall, and along this to a large 
open door, through which we passed and went down 
three steps into another hall. This was very short; 
and opening a door at the end of it. Dolor Tripp 
ushered us into a large room, into which the moon- 
beams, now grown brighter, came through a small 
unshuttered window high up in the wall. 

Dolor Tripp, who seemed to be used to doing things 
in semi-darkness, took down an iron candlestick from 
the mantelpiece, and asked if anybody had a match. 
One was immediately produced by Lord Crabstairs, 
and the candle was lighted. 

^^Now,” said she, holding the light above her head, 
^^this is the kitchen of the old house. Part of the old 
house was torn down to make room for the new one, 
which is pretty old itself, but this kitchen was left. If 

301 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


some one will close that door we shall be entirely shut 
off from the rest of the house, and then we need not be 
so particular about keeping quiet.^^ 

I did not care a snap whether this part of the house 
was old or new, but I saw before me a great, old-fash- 
ioned fireplace with some charred logs lying upon the 
iron andirons, and at one end of the hearth a pile of 
fire- wood. This was what we had come for. We fell 
to work, and in ten minutes a great fire was blazing 
and crackling, the wet wraps of the ladies were re- 
moved, and we all gathered around the hearth, which 
fortunately was large enough to accommodate the six 
of us. It is astonishing how the genial heat dried our 
shoes and clothes and raised our spirits. 

The schoolmaster and the butcher sat at the corners 
of the fireplace, and they were very well placed indeed. 
The former took off his gown and hung it on a crane 
that extended from one side of the great fireplace. 
He wished to have it dry enough to put on when he 
went out. It was not probable that Mrs. Bodship 
would be rambling about the country at night, but he 
wanted to feel quite safe. 

^^How, then,” said Doris, ^Tf we only had some good 
hot tea we ought to be perfectly happy.” 

^^And something to eat,” added Lord Crabstairs. 
for one, am half famished.” 

^Wou can have both tea and something to eat,” said 
Dolor Tripp. ^^We have used this kitchen as a store- 
room for the things we buy in quantities. In that 
cupboard is a box of tea, and there is sugar and salt 
and spices, and a barrel of flour.” 

^^We can’t do anything with flour and salt without 
waiting ever so long,” said Doris. 

302 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


feel as if I could eat them without baking/’ said 
Lord Crabstairs. 

^^You needn’t do that/’ said Dolor Tripp. can 
go quietly to the other end of the house, where the 
pantry is. There is always something to eat there. 
But first let us boil the kettle. If you, sir, will move 
your gown a little farther to the back of the crane, 
there is a kettle here which we can hang over the 
fire.” 

Under her direction, the butcher, with as little noise 
as possible, pumped some water from a cistern under 
the kitchen, and when the kettle was filled and over 
the fire, the two ladies got down some cups, saucers, 
and a tea-pot from the shelves of a dresser which 
seemed to be filled with old-time pottery. 

Then Dolor Tripp started to go to the pantry. 
will blow out the candle,” she said, ^^and take it with 
me. Then I will light it when I get there. They 
are very hard to wake, but a light passing through 
the house might do it. You folks won’t mind sitting 
here in the firelight ? ” 

Of course we did not mind, and Doris offered to 
go with her. The two opened the kitchen door and 
went out into the little hall. In a moment they 
returned. 

^^What do you think?” said Doris, in an excited 
undertone. The door at the top of the steps that lead 
into the main building is fastened, and we cannot 
open it ! ” 

In great surprise we all rose to our feet and looked 
toward Dolor Tripp, that she might tell us what to 
think. ^^Is there a spring-lock on the door?” I 
asked. 


303 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


said she, ^^there is no spring-lock, and we did 
not close the door after ns. We shut only this kitchen 
door. But I know who did it,’’ she added quietly. 
^Tt was the ghost. It is one of its ways to lock and 
bolt doors.” 


304 


CHAPTER XIII 

THE PIE GHOST 

*^The ghost ! ’’ exclaimed Doris, with a quick grasp 
upon the arm of Dolor Tripp. 

was sure of it ! said the butcher, looking straight 
in front of him and speaking very decidedly. saw 
something white moving in the front hall as I came 
down the stairs. I knew it for a ghost, but I didn’t 
say anything, for I didn’t suppose it would meddle 
with six people.” 

^^Fiddle-faddle ! ” said Lord Crabstairs. There are 
no such things as ghosts.” And with this opinion I 
coincided. The schoolmaster said nothing. He re- 
sumed his seat at the side of the fireplace, and rear- 
ranged his gown upon the crane so as to expose all 
parts of it to the heat. It might be necessary to put 
it on suddenly. 

There is no mistake about this ghost,” said Dolor 
Tripp. ^Hf you will all sit down till the kettle boils I 
will tell you about it.” 

We resumed our seats in front of the fire, and the 
butcher put on some fresh sticks. 

^Ht has been in this house,” said Dolor, still holding 
the unlighted candle, ^^ever since I first came here, a 

305 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


little girl only ten years old. I soon began to see it, 
tboiigh I don’t believe it often saw me.” 

^‘Didn’t it frighten you nearly to death?” asked 
Doris. 

^^No,” replied the other. ^^At first I thought it be- 
longed to the house just as much as any of the other 
queer things which I found here, and there seemed to 
be no reason why I should be frightened at one thing 
more than at another.” 

^AVhat did your sisters say about it?” asked Doris. 

^^They didn’t say anything,” replied the other. 
soon began to believe that they didn’t know anything 
about it, and I was afraid that if I told them they 
would have something done to drive it out of the 
house.” 

We all looked at her in amazement. ^^And you did 
not want that?” asked Lord Crabstairs. 

^^No, indeed,” replied Dolor Tripp. used to try 
to watch for it. I would go into different parts of the 
house at night and watch for it, hoping it would come 
by. Sometimes weeks and weeks would pass without 
my seeing it, and then I would get a glimpse of it on 
two or three nights in succession.” 

^AVhat did it look like?” asked Doris. 

^^Its head was light or whitish, and below it grad- 
ually melted down into darkness.” 

^‘That was it,” said the butcher. ^^That is exactly 
like the thing I saw.” 

And you never, never told your sisters,” said Doris, 
^^that they were living in the house with a ghost? ” 

^^No, indeed!” replied Dolor Tripp. ^^You see, 
before we came here we lived in a horrid little house 
in the town, and when it was decided by the court 

306 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


that this place belonged to us nobody was so glad as I 
was. So, as I told you, I did not want Alwilda and 
Lizeth to do anything to drive the ghost away ; but 
what I was most afraid of was that they might find 
that they couldn’t get rid of it, and would go away 
themselves. I wouldn’t have had that happen for 
anything in the world.” 

^^And so,” said Doris, ^^as the burglars would not 
come, you didn’t want to lose the visits of a ghost.” 

Perhaps so,” replied Dolor Tripp. ^^And now the 
kettle is boiling, and we can have some tea, if we can’t 
get anything else.” 

^^As for ghosts,” interjected Lord Crabstairs, 
never have believed in them, and never shall. But I 
do know that I am as hungry as a wolf ; and if you’ll 
allow me, miss. I’ll push open that door, no matter 
who fastened it on the other side, and I’ll go with you 
to the pantry, or anywhere else where there’s bread 
and meat, and defend you against all comers, ghosts or 
otherwise.” 

^^Oh, you must not do that ! ” exclaimed Dolor 
Tripp. ^‘The door would be broken, and Alwilda 
and Lizeth would surely wake up.” 

^^As for believing in ghosts,” said the butcher, 
good deal depends upon who does the believing. If 
you’ve never had a chance of seeing ghosts, sir, you 
are out of the race.” 

The candle was now lighted, and cups of hot tea 
were served by the ladies. I hurriedly drank a cup, 
and then began to consider the situation. I went to 
the door at the top of the steps and tried it, thinking 
perhaps there might be a mistake in regard to its being 
fastened. But there had been no mistake. It was 


307 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


locked, and the key was on the other side. I did not 
like to be fastened up against my will in any place or 
by any agency. 

I now insisted that we should leave this place with- 
out delay, by window if there was no other outlet, 
and make our way to our boat. 

^^Oh, you can’t get out,” said Dolor Tripp, ^^until he 
unfastens the door. The window-sashes are all nailed 
and screwed fast, and the outside shutters and that 
back door are padlocked. Alwilda and Lizeth are 
very particular about having this kitchen secure from 
burglars. But you needn’t worry. That door will be 
opened before long. The ghost always does that after 
making you wait a little while.” 

think it is rather jolly,” said Doris, ^^to have a 
ghost for a jailer, though I can’t really say I should 
like to have him come in and bring us a jug of water 
and a loaf of bread.” 

^^If he will do that,” said Lord Crabstairs, ^^I’ll be- 
lieve in him ; although I don’t care for the water, and 
should like him to fetch some meat or cheese with the 
bread.” 

Doris suddenly turned toward the schoolmaster. 
^^What have you done with the sandpiper?” she 
said. 

The butcher started. ^^You are not thinking of eat- 
ing him? ” he asked. 

^^Oh, no,” said Doris, with a laugh. ^AVe have not 
got so low as that yet, although I must admit that I 
also am awfully hungry. But talking of things to eat 
made me think of the bird, and I wondered what had 
become of it.” 

' left the cage,” said the schoolmaster, ^^just out- 

308 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


side by the front door. I put my bat over it to keep 
the rain off the sandpiper.’^ 

Lord Crabstairs smote his knees with his hands and 
laughed. ^^Why, man/^ he cried, ^^that tall silk hat 
has blown forty miles across country by this time ! • 

The butcher looked at him severely. That’s all 
right,” he said. should like to know how it could 
get out of this yard with such a high fence and no gate 
open. I don’t believe it’s raining, anyway; so you 
may feel sure, ma’am, that the sandpiper is comfort- 
able.” 

At this moment there was a little noise at one of 
the windows, and turning my eyes in that direction^ 
I saw the lower sash raised a couple of inches. I was 
about to spring toward the window when Doris, who 
had followed my glance, caught me by the coat. 

Instantly we all rose to our feet, and as we looked 
at the window, beyond which we could see nothing, 
something like a young moon began to protrude itself 
through the opening under the sash. In a moment 
the lunar apparition had greatly increased in size and 
was a half-moon. 

Dolor Tripp now made a quick step forward. 

^^Keep back, all of you,” she said. ^^I know what it 
is.” And going to the window, she took hold of the 
moon, and drawing it into the room, she held it up 
to us in all the glory of its fulness. 

A pumpkin-pie ! ” exclaimed Doris. 

We gathered about it. It was of the largest size, 
and as yellow as gold. ^^Oh, delicious ! ” cried Doris.- 
^^Somebody get a knife.” 

^^But where did it come from?” I asked. 

^^From the ghost, of course,” replied Dolor Tripp; 

309 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


^^That is one of its ways. It leaves pies about. Sev- 
eral times when it has locked me into a room I’ve just 
waited quietly until I found the door unfastened, and 
there outside, just where I wouldn’t step into it, there 
would be a little pie.” 

lovely ghost!” cried Lord Crabstairs. ^^I am 
converted. I believe in him. But this isn’t a pie ; 
it’s a tart. Pies are made of meat.” 

^^No, they are not,” said the butcher j ^^at least, not 
punkin-pies. I should think I ought to know what 
things are made of meat.” 

^‘And I ought to know what things are made of 
fruits and vegetables,” retorted Lord Crabstairs. 
^^That is a tart ! ” 

^tl’ll toss up to see who is right,” said the butcher. 

^^Done ! ” said Lord Crabstairs, producing a penny. 

Heads ! ” cried the butcher. 

It was tails. 

All right,” said the butcher. ^H’ll take some of it, 
but all the same I never imagined that I should live 
long enough to eat punkin-tart ! ” 

Dolor Tripp quickly cut the pie into six parts, but 
I would have none of it. I do not believe in ghosts, 
and will not eat food brought by them. I went to the 
window and endeavored to raise the sash higher, but 
could not do so. With all my strength I could not 
increase the width of the narrow aperture. One of 
the shutters was open, but the shadow of the main 
building and a growth of evergreen bushes made 
everything dark immediately outside. 

I left the window, and walking quietly out of the 
kitchen into the little hall, I again tried the door at 
the top of the steps. To my delight, it was unfastened. 

310 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


I stepped gently back, and looking in at tbe kitchen 
door, I caught the eye of the butcher, who was finish- 
ing his piece of pie. Without attracting the attention 
of the others, who were making some fresh tea, he 
came to me. 

I whispered to him to follow. We went up the 
steps and through the door. We groped our way 
along the passage, turned into the main hall, opened 
the front door, and went out. 

^^It is no ghost,” I said. ^^Let us go around the 
house and catch him ! ” 

began to have my doubts,” said the butcher. 
^^The pie was too real.” 

As quietly as possible we walked along the front of 
the house and around the end of it, returning by the 
back toward the old kitchen. ' The moon gave us light 
enough to see our way until we reached the shaded 
corner by the window ; but when we had slowly and 
gently pushed through the evergreens we found our- 
selves in almost total darkness, the little light that 
came from the candle within amounting to almost 
nothing. But although we could not expect to see an 
approaching figure, we might hear one, and we stood 
silently and waited. 

But we did not wait long. Down from some region 
above came a light, misty spot like a will-o’-the-wisp. 
When it was about five feet from the ground it moved 
toward the kitchen window. I do not know what the 
butcher thought, but at this moment it occurred to me 
that perhaps, after all, it might be well not to inter- 
fere with this apparition. We really had no right to 
interfere, and we were ourselves intruders upon the 
premises. And whether it were a ghost, or a man, or 

311 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


a woman^ there was something in my nature, naturally 
sensitive, which prompted hesitation before actively 
interfering with the pursuits of another. 

But I had no time properly to revolve this subject 
in my mind. The butcher reached out one hand and 
took me by the coat-sleeve. Following the impube 
thus given, I moved with him toward the window, our 
feet making no noise upon the soft grass. 

Against the faint light in the room, on the side of 
the window where the shutter was opened, we could 
see the top of a strangely formed head raised just high 
enough above the window-sill to enable its owner to 
look inside. The ghost was watching our friends ! 

There was a quick movement of the apparition ; the 
butcher had seized it. In the next instant I also laid 
hold of it. 'Within my grasp I felt an arm, a human 
arm, quite firm and solid. Not a word was spoken ; 
there was no struggle, no noise. Silently the butcher 
and I pulled our captive away from the window, 
through the overhanging evergreen boughs, and out 
into the moonlight. 

There we discovered that we held a man, quite a 
small man, with a white cap on hb head. 

^^Well, now,’’ said he, looking from one to the other 
of us, ^^you have caught me, haven’t you? And I 
must say you did it pretty neat. I knew it was risky, 
foolin’ with sech a big party, but for the life of me I 
couldn’t help it. Never sech a chance turned up be- 
fore in this house ! ” 

^^But who are you?” said I. 

^^You are a stranger to me,” replied the little man, 
^^and you wouldn’t know who I was if I told you. 
Now, this gentleman knows me, and I know him.” 

312 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


^^You don’t mean to say,” exclaimed the butcher, 
^^that you are—” 

^^Yes, I am,” interrupted the other. 

^^And you are the ghost!” 

^^hiow, tell me,” asked the little man, ^^did she take 
me for a ghost! I always hoped she would, but I 
couldn’t help feelin’ sort of oncertain about it.” 

^^She certainly did,” answered the butcher. 

That’s what I call real jolly ! ” said our prisoner, 
rubbing his hands. Let’s go in and have it all out. 
I guess I’ve served my time as a spook, and might as 
well come down to the level of common people.” 

As the butcher had released his hold of our prisoner, 
I did so likewise. The little man now started off, and 
went around the house to the front door. We fol- 
lowed, and he led us into the hall and along the pas- 
sage to the kitchen. Entering abruptly, he stopped 
near the door, and exclaimed in a cheery voice, and 
without removing his cap : ^^How, ladies and gentle- 
men, here’s your ghost ! What do you think of him ! ” 

The party had been anxiously discussing our absence, 
and Lord Crabstairs and the schoolmaster were about 
to start out to look for us. They now all stood amazed, 
gazing wide-eyed at the new-comer. 

Suddenly Dolor Tripp stepped forward. ^^Griscom 
Brothers ! ” she exclaimed. 

^Wes,” said the little man, am Griscom Bro- 
thers.” 

^^In the name of common sense,” said Doris, ^^please 
tell me what you two are talking about ! Is this the 
pie ghost! ” 

^^Yes, madam,” said Griscom Brothers. ^^And not 
only pie, but bread, both wheat and Boston brown, 

313 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


with rye to order 5 eakes of all kinds, espeeially home- 
made ginger ; and family bakings and roasts on rea- 
sonable terms. In a word — Griscom Brothers.’^ 

^^Of the village over there,’’ added Dolor Tripp, in 
further explanation. 

Griscom Brothers,” said the butcher, in a tone of 
confident affirmation. 

All this was as surprising to me as it was to the 
others. As for* Lord Crabstairs, he stood up very 
straight with his feet wide apart, and stared at Gris- 
com Brothers. 

^^Now, really!” he exclaimed. ^Gt is Brothers, is 
it? And the ghost of a baker, besides 1 ” 

^^No, sir,” spoke up quickly the little man. may 
be a baker ghost, but I am not the ghost of a baker ; 
not yet.” 

^^Are you two in one? ” asked Lord Crabstairs. ^Gf 
not, where is the other one of you? ” 

^Gly brother,” said the little man, ^^who, with me, 
gave our business its firm-name, has been deceased for 
a long time.” 

^^Then,” said Lord Crabstairs, Griscom Brothers is 
half dead, and has a right to be a half-ghost.” 

^^Aha!” said the little man. That’s about right. 
Half the time I’m a baker, and half the time a ghost. 
And now, then, if you folks care to hear all about it, 
I’m ready to talk.” 

^‘Care to hear!” said Dolor Tripp. ^G’m on pins 
and needles to hear ! ” 

The fire was now built up afresh, and again we 
placed ourselves on our chairs, stools, and boxes about 
the hearth, Griscom Brothers having a place in the 
middle, between Dolor Tripp and Doris. I happened 

314 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


to notice that in this arrangement the schoolmaster 
was left out, and was standing back of our half-circle. 
But as the schoolmaster was evidently a humble- 
minded person and did not appear to object to his 
position, I thought it wise not to disturb the company 
by interrupting the story which the baker had just 
begun. 


315 


CHAPTER XrV 


WHAT GEISCOM BROTHERS GOT OUT OF A 

PUMPKIN-PIE 

By tlie bright light of the fire I took a good look 
at Griscom Brothers. He appeared to be about fifty 
years old^ with a merry countenance, small eyes, 
grizzly side -whiskers, and below his white paper cap 
a little curly, grizzly hair. It was plain that he liked 
to talk, and that he was well satisfied with his present 
position. ^^Xow,’’ said he, looking from side to side, 
know who you all are. You are the people from 
the schooner out here in the bay ; and as I’ve told you 
who I am, we may call ourselves acquainted, and I’ll 
go on and tell about the ghost business without asking 
any questions of you ; at least, not now. 

^H’ve often noticed,” said he, giving himself a little 
twist in his chair, ^^that when a man sits down, fair 
and square, to tell a story, it happens time and again 
that the story don’t step up to the mark as lively as it 
ought to, and when it does show itself, it isn’t as much 
of a story as it was expected to be. I shouldn’t won- 
der if my story should be that way ; but I’ll take it by 
the nape of the neck and bring it right in, and let 
you folks see all there is of it. 

^Ht was about twelve years ago, when my brother 

316 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


died and my family got to be only me, that I found I 
didn’t get sleep enough. You see that, being a baker, 
I am obliged to go to my work very early in the 
morning, mostly about three o’clock, and that if I 
don’t get a good sleep in the first part of the night it 
will tell on me. You know, that sort of thing will tell 
on people. iMow, the room I slept in after my family 
became so small was Mrs. Springer’s second fioor back, 
and every Tuesday night the Dorcas Society used to 
meet there, and them women kept up such a chatter- 
ing from before dark to nobody knows how late at 
night, that I might as well try to make good bread of 
brick-clay as to sleep ; meaning no offence, of course,” 
—turning from one to the other of the ladies,— ^Tf 
either of you belongs to a Dorcas Society.” 

^^Which I do not,” said Doris, ^^and if I did I 
wouldn’t mind.” 

^^Yow, you see,” continued Griscom Brothers, 
^^when a man loses his night’s sleep on one night in 
the week, he is very like to get into the habit of losing 
it 5 that’s what I did, and couldn’t stand it. At that 
time this house was empty, the law having not decided 
who it belonged to, and it came into my head that it 
would be a good thing to come over here and sleep. 
There would be no Dorcas Society here, or anything 
ebe to disturb me. So here I came, finding it easy to 
get in at one of these kitchen windows ; and I fixed up 
a bed in an upper room, and there I could sleep like 
a toad in a hole. Of course I didn’t want to hurt Mrs. 
Springer’s feelings, and I never said nothing to her 
about my not sleeping in the house. I went up -stairs 
every night at my reg’lar bedtime, and I rumpled up 
the bed and went away, Mrs. Springer not knowing 

317 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


whether I left the house at three o’clock in the morn- 
ing or nine o’clock at night. You see, I’m very spry 
at getting about without people seeing me ; and to 
this day Mrs. Springer doesn’t know that for the last 
twelve years I haven’t slept in her house except on 
some very stormy nights.” 

^‘Paid for your room straight along, I. guess,” re- 
marked the butcher. 

^^Yes, sir. As I didn’t pay nothing here it was all 
right I should pay there. Well, after I had kept up 
this thing for two years, you and your sisters,” turning 
to Dolor Tripp, ^^came here to live, and then you may 
be sure I had a hard nut to crack. I had become so 
accustomed to this big, quiet house that I didn’t be- 
lieve I could sleep under any other roof, and so I said 
to myself, ^I’ll stay here, and these people sha’n’t know 
it any more than Mrs. Springer does.’ There’s a loft 
over this kitchen which you can’t get into except by 
that trap-door and a ladder, and so before you came 
here I put the ladder up into the loft, and put a bolt 
on the other side of the trap-door, which kept me 
private. I knew you wouldn’t want to use the loft, 
and I thought I might as well have it as not.” 

And you’ve been sleeping there for ten years ! ” 
exclaimed Dolor. 

^‘That’s about the time,” said Griscom Brothers, 
put everything into that room to make myself com- 
fortable, — not your things, but my things, — and I got 
in and out through a little window in the roof. There 
are some strips nailed on for a grape-vine, and these I 
use for a ladder. I can go up and down in the darkest 
night just like stairs. I can get into the house just 
the same as I used to, because the lock on the back 

318 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


door of the main house is one I put there myself, years 
ago, and of course IVe got a key to it. Not long after 
you came I got to going over the house again, princi- 
pally to see if the doors and windows were all shut 
and fastened. You was a little girl then, and you had 
a way of going out of doors after your sisters had gone 
to bed. You never thought of shutting up when you 
came back. When you got to be a big girl, and even 
a young woman, you did the same thing. So I kept on 
taking care of things.’’ 

It strikes me,” said Lord Crabstairs, who had been 
listening very attentively to the baker’s story, ^^that 
you had rather an odd way of getting a night’s sleep. 
Rambling through a house and playing ghost isn’t the 
way to refresh a man, I take it.” 

^^Now, you see,” said Griscom Brothers, ^^the p’int 
of it is this : when I was at Mrs. Springer’s I couldn’t 
sleep if I wanted to, but in this house I could go to 
my little room and sleep whenever I felt like it ; that 
makes all the difference in the world.” 

^^Yes,” said the butcher, ^^being able to do a thing is 
often just as much good to a person as doing it.” 

^^Now, tell me another thing,” said Lord Crabstairs. 
^^What did you mean by that pumpkin-tart ? ” 

^^Tart ! ” exclaimed the baker. 

That’s all right,” said the butcher. ^^We tossed 
up, and tart it is.” 

Griscom Brothers did not seem to understand, but 
he went on to explain : 

^^That was an ordered punkin-pie. It isn’t the sea- 
son for that sort of thing, and nobody but me has got 
any punkins kept over. Old Mrs. Gormish ordered 
the pie for her grandchild’s christening, but when they 

319 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


sent for Mr. Black lie couldn’t come, and they had to 
have Mr. Startling, and he’s a dyspeptic, and so the 
old lady sent word to me she didn’t want no pie, and 
it was left on my hands. I always like to have some- 
thing to eat before I start out in the early morning, 
so I brought this with me, for there isn’t no call for 
such. When you people came into the kitchen I was 
fast asleep, but I jumped uj) quick enough and hurried 
down to see what was the matter. I was at the win- 
dow seeing and listening to pretty nearly all you did 
and said ; and when I heard you talking about being 
so hungry I thought of giving you that pie, and I 
locked the door to keep you in the kitchen until I 
thought I had done my duty by you.” 

^^You did it well,” said Doris. ^Tt was a good pie.” 
dare say,” said Lord Crabstairs, ^^that in this 
country bakers don’t sell meat.” 

^^No,” said Griscom Brothers, ^^as a rule they don’t.” 

^^Well, then,” said his lordship, ^^as we are pretty 
well dried and warmed, and as there is nothing 
more to eat, we might as well be getting back to 
the ship.” 

We all agreed that this was the proper thing to do, 
and we rose from our seats. 

Before you go,” said Griscom Brothers, addressing 
Dolor Tripp, want to settle one thing : Do you ob- 
ject to my staying on in that little loft, or must I go 
back to Mrs. Springer?” 

think,” said Dolor Tripp, ^^that it would be much 
better for you to stay where you are for the present. 
I am going to Boston, and when I come back I will 
speak to my sisters about it.” 

^^Then I’ll pack up my goods,” said Griscom Bro- 

320 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


thers, ^^the day you come back, for I know what your 
sisters will say.” 

As the baker finished speaking he turned suddenly, 
and his eyes fell upon the schoolmaster, who until this 
moment had been keeping well in the background. 
For an instant the two gazed steadily at each other, 
then Griscom Brothers exclaimed— almost screamed : 

Johnny ! ” 

The schoolmaster, with his long arms extended, 
rushed upon the other, and in a moment they were 
folded in a close embrace. 

The pie ghost was the schoolmaster’s father. 

For a few moments nothing was said, and we gazed 
in amazement upon the embracing couple. Then the 
butcher beckoned us a little apart and said in a low 
voice : 

^^That young man ran away from home more than 
twelve years ago. I didn’t know him, for all that 
happened before I came to these parts, but I have 
often heard the story. I shouldn’t wonder if he has 
been as much afraid of meeting his dad as of running 
afoul of Mrs. Bodship.” 

Griscom Brothers now stepped forward, holding his 
son by the hand. 

Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, ^^who could have 
thought it, that old Mrs. Gormish’s punkin-pie should 
have given me back my son ! If it hadn’t been that 
she threw tlie pie on my hands I shouldn’t have brought 
it here, and if it hadn’t been here I shouldn’t liave 
tried to give it to you, and if I hadn’t done that you 
never would have ketched me, and if you hadn’t 
ketched me I shouldn’t have known that my Johnny 
was with you.” 


321 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


strikes me/’ said Lord CrabstairSj ^^that you 
ought to thank the clergyman who ate his meals so 
fast that he gave himself dyspepsia. If he had been 
able to eat pumpkin -tart you wouldn’t have found 
your son.” 

^^Tart ! ” ejaculated the baker. 

^^Tart it is/’ said the butcher j ^^tossed up all square. 
And now I think it is time for us to be moving.” 

^‘Johnny/’ said Griscom Brothers, won’t you stay 
with me to-night ? My bed is wide enough for two.” 

But the schoolmaster hesitated, and finally said he 

• ' 

thought it would be better for him to go back to the 
ship, for he had certain work to do in the morning. 

We should have exclaimed against any ship- work 
taking this new-found son from his father, but it was 
quite plain that the schoolmaster did not wish to stay. 
Perhaps he thought that if he walked across the coun- 
try in broad daylight and without the protection of 
our company Mrs. Bodship might pounce upon him in 
spite of his disguise. 

^Wery well,” said his father. ^^Perhaps it’s better 
for you to go ; for if you stayed here we should talk all 
night, and neither of us get any sleep.” 

The schoolmaster now took his butcher’s gown from 
the crane, where in the course of its frequent shiftings 
it had received a number of broad black stripes, and 
put it on. 

suppose there are reasons for your wearing that,” 
said his father, ^^but I won’t ask them now. If you 
don’t sail too early in the morning, I’m coming to see 
you on board the ship.” 

^^AVe shall be delighted to have you visit us,” cried 
Doris ; “and the ship shall not sail until you arrive.” 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


Preceded by Griscom Brothers, who carried the 
candle, we now left the kitchen. When we reached 
the long hallway our leader stopped, and, addressing 
Dolor Tripp, said that before she went away he would 
like to show her the picture that her sister was paint- 
ing of her. 

We all declared that we should like to see that pic- 
ture, and the baker led us into the dining-room. 

^^You needn’t be afraid,” he said, as we walked 
after him, ^^of waking up Alwilda and Lizeth ; I never 
knew two women sleep like they do. I believe their 
eyelids shut with a snap at nine o’clock, and open with 
a click at six in the morning.” 

The dining-room was large and high, with plain, 
smooth walls entirely unadorned except by a row of 
pictures painted on the smooth plaster at about the 
eye -line, and intended to extend all around the room. 
The line on three of the walls was completed. These 
pictures had all been painted by Alwilda, and the 
style of them proved that she had been to a great 
extent her own teacher. The subjects were various, 
and some of them quite astonishing. We did not ex- 
amine the whole gallery, but proceeded to the latest 
picture, which was yet unfinished. 

This painting, about a yard square, represented 
Dolor Tripp lying drowned by the sea-shore — this 
being the fate which her sister expected would befall 
her while voyaging to Boston. The wretched plight 
of the recumbent corpse made us shudder, and the 
subject of the sketch covered her face with her 
hands. 

^Gt is outrageous ! it is shameful ! ” cried Doris. 
^^Such a thing ought not to be allowed to exist ! ” 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


“Which it shouldn’t/^ said Lord Crabstairs, “if I 
had a pail of whitewash.” 

“And a brush/’ added the butcher. 

“I have that/’ said Doris, who had been looking 
about her, and had perceived the artist’s materials 
near by. 

Doris was an amateur artist, and, moreover, was 
quick to think and act. With a palette, a few colors, 
and some brushes, she stood before the picture, Gris- 
com Brothers holding the candle. The pallid features 
of the drowned maiden soon began to glow with rosy 
health ; her eyes were closed, but it was plain she 
slept j the sands and shallow water about her changed 
into soft, green grass, and the tall, slimy weeds which 
had thrown themselves about her form were now 
green, wavy stems with somewhat too brilliant blos- 
soms. Even the rocks were covered with soft moss, 
and the whole scene changed so rapidly under Doris’s 
brush that we were filled with an admiration we did 
not hesitate to express. 

“I am glad you like it,” said Doris. “I’m sure 
there’s nothing soaked or dead about Dolor Tripp 
now.” 

“When Alwilda Tripp sees that,” said Griscom 
Brothers, “she’ll think there’s been a miracle.” 

“W^hich there has been,” remarked the butcher ; 
“an out-and-out square miracle.” 

“I don’t know what she’ll think,” said Dolor Tripp, 
“but I know what I think ; ” and she kissed Doris. 

I think we all would have been delighted to be in 
that room when Alwilda came down in the morning, 
but we spoke no more upon the subject, and quickly 
left the house. 


324 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


“I’ll lock the door and make everything all right/’ 
said Griscom Brothers, “and soon after breakfast I 
shall be down at the shore ready to be took on board.” 

The schoolmaster picked up his tall silk hat, which 
still rested on the top of the sandpiper’s cage, and i)ut 
it on ; then he took up the cage, looked in at the bird, 
and was ready to go. 

“Bless my soul ! ” exclaimed Griscom Brothers, “you 
look like a holiday butcher that’s been half broiled. 
If you are going to slaughter that bird, don’t do it 
until I come in the morning.” 

We now took leave of the baker and left the yard 
by the opening in the fence, after which the loose 
j>alings were restored to their proper position by the 
butcher. Though the moon was bright, we had some 
difficulty in finding our way on account of the fog 
which was coming in from the sea ; but the butcher 
was now our guide, and without serious mishap or 
much detention we reached the shore, where we had 
left our boat. But when we had embarked we found 
the fog on the bay so thick that we could not see a 
boat’s-length in any direction. The schooner, how- 
ever, was not far from shore, and we thought we could 
easily reach her ; but in this opinion we were mistaken. 
We rowed and rowed, and still did not reach the ship. 
How we could have taken a wrong direction none of 
us could imagine, but we turned the boat and rowed 
and rowed again. 

“Can it be possible,” cried Doris, “that our ship has 
sailed away ? ” 

“Absolutely impossible!” said the butcher, with 
much fervency. 

We now rowed about, this way and that, for at least 

325 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


half an hour, and I think we all began to be afraid 
that perhaps we had drifted out to sea. Suddenly the 
butcher laid down his oars and requested us all to be 
quiet ; then, standing up in the boat, he flapped his 
elbows two or three times and gave forth a loud cock- 
a-doodle-do ! There was an instant’s silence, and then, 
not far away from the stern of the boat, there came an 
answering cock-a-doodle-do ! 

We all knew that this came from the cock in the 
rigging of the Merry Chanter. 

In five minutes we were on board. 

^^Past midnight,” said Captain Cyrus, whose watch 
it was. 


320 


CHAPTER XV 

WE ARE LOYAL TO THE “MERRY CHANTER’^ 

Early the next morning the fog cleared away, and 
soon after breakfast we heard a hail from the shore. 

“It’s father,” cried the schoolmaster, who was en- 
gaged in giving the usual morning attentions to the 
sandpiper. 

And, sure enough, looking shoreward, we saw Gris- 
com Brothers waving something white in his hand as 
if it were a flag of truce. 

Captain Cyrus went after him in the boat, and very 
soon the good baker was on board. 

Bidding us all a cheery good morning, he handed 
the white article to the butcher. 

“Here is your gown,” he said, “which you left on 
the grass last night; and it’s a very good thing you 
did so. If you want to know why. I’ll tell you.” 

We all wanted to know why, and he told us. 

“You see,” said he, “we always serve the Tripp 
family with bread on Saturday morning, and this 
morning I thought I would deliver it myself. I 
found Lizeth Tripp at the chicken -yard, and she was 
looking as if she had had a bad night. 

“ ^Did you sleep well? ’ I asked, feeling a little ner- 

327 


THE MERRY CHANTER 

vous, I must say, fearing slie had heard something in 
the night. 

^Oh, I slept well enough/ said she, ^but Vvg seen 
sights this morning.^ ^What sights?’ says I. ^Just 
listen,’ says she. ‘When I opened the window early 
this morning, the first thing that I saw was something 
white lying flat on the grass, with its long arms 
stretched out, as if it was dead. It made me jump, I 
tell you, for at first I thought it was a spirit j but it 
was so flat and thin that I next thought it was only the 
skin of a spirit.’ ‘Which I didn’t know they shed 
them,’ says I. ‘Nor I neither,’ says she. ‘But I tell 
you it frightened me, and I jumped back from that 
window and went down-stairs ; and something seemed 
to move me to go into the dining-room and look at 
the picture Alwilda was painting, and when I saw it I 
was struck worse than ever. I tumbled back into a 
chair, and for ever so long I couldn’t move for staring. 
By good luck Alwilda didn’t come into the room, 
being busy with breakfast. And now I have just 
come out to ask the hired man to take a pitchfork 
and carry off that skin, or whatever it is ; but he hjis 
gone away, and I’m mighty glad to see you. I wish 
you’d come into the dining-room and look at the 
picture.’ So, as innocent as a lamb, I followed her into 
the dining-room, and looked at the picture which you, 
madam, touched up last night. I must say that, seeing 
it in the daylight, the young woman in the grass 
looked as if she had died of a raging fever in the 
middle of a lot of red-hot flowers. ‘ What’s the matter 
with it?’ says I, as innocent as if I hadn’t seen the 
thing done. ‘ It’s been changed,’ says she. ‘ It was a 
picture of a soaked corpse, and now it’s a sleej^ing 

328 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


beauty ; and if the spirit of Dolor Tripp didn’t change 
it^ I’d like to know what spirit did. If she was really 
' lost at sea that’s just the way she’d come back to com- 
fort us.’ ^Now, look here/ says I, ^I don’t believe in 
spirits anyway, and if there was any, they couldn’t 
paint.’ 

Having been a ghost myself,” he said, looking 
round the company with a smile, ought to know 
what they can do. 

^Now, then,’ says I to Lizeth Tripp, 4t’s my opin- 
ion that your sister Alwilda began to feel bad about 
this picture, and so she altered it herself. Now, if I 
was you, I’d rub out the whole thing— that is, if it can 
be rubbed out.’ ^ I can clean it all off the wall,’ says 
she 5 ^ for I’ve often seen Alwilda do that thing when 
she didn’t like a picture and wanted to paint it over 
again.’ And with that she went and got a steel thing 
like a hoe, and scraped every scrap of that picture off 
the smooth wall. ^ There shouldn’t be no such picture 
in the house,’ says she, ^whether it’s of a drowned 
sister, or of one asleep on the broad of her back in the 
middle of a field ; and as fast as Alwilda paints them 
I’ll scrape ’em out.’ 

^^Now, it seems to me,” said Griscom Brothers, ^^that 
I got us all out of that scrape pretty well.” 

That’s your way of looking at it,” said Lord Crab- 
stairs ; ^^but it strikes me that Lizeth Tripp is going to 
get herself into a lot of scrapes if she keeps on scraping 
out her sister’s pictures.” 

^^Well,” continued the baker, ^^there wasn’t nothing 
left to clear up but that white thing on the grass, and 
when I looked at it I told Lizeth it was nothing but a 
butcher’s gown, that most likely had blown over there 

329 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


in the storm. I didn’t know it was yours until I 
picked it up and saw your name on it. So I said I’d 
take it away with me ; and I left as quick as I could, 
for I didn’t want to have to clear up anything more.” 

We all agreed that Griscom Brothers had done his 
part well, and he now retired to the bow of the ship 
to hold converse with his son. 

Dolor Tripp was very anxious that this conversa- 
tion should be speedily terminated, so that we might 
sail away. She feared that if there should be a 
quarrel between Alwilda and Lizeth on account of 
the one scraping out the pictures of the other, it 
might become necessary for her to go home and act 
as peacemaker ; but if she were actually on her way 
to Boston this would not be possible. 

Captain Timon, however, assured her there was no 
hurry, and that Griscom Brothers would have time 
to talk with his son as long as he liked. 

In half an hour the baker left us. 

don’t suppose you’ll sail on Sunday,” he said, 
^^and if you don’t get off to-day. I’ll come on board 
again to-morrow.” 

^^We shall never sail on Sunday,” said the butcher, 
speaking very positive indeed. 

I looked at the butcher, and he looked at me, and 
we both looked at Captain Timon, who looked out 
over the sea. 

We did not sail on Sunday, and on Monday evening 
Doris took me aside for what she called a serious con- 
versation. 

^Gt seems to me,” she said, “that as owners of this 
ship we are not doing our duty by our passengers. 
The butcher came on board and paid his passage to 

330 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


Boston ; we are not taking him to Boston. Lord Crab- 
stairs came on board to go to Boston ; he paid his 
pjissage, and we are not taking him there. The school- 
master came on board to go somewhere, and we are 
not taking him anywhere. It is true he paid for no 
passage ; but we promised to take him to Boston, and 
we are not taking him. Dolor Tripp is worse off than 
the others, because she is really afraid that if we do 
not soon start, something will make it necessary for 
her to go home. As for ourselves, we have taken our 
chances, and must be content ; and as to the four cap- 
tains, they also have taken their chances. They 
uudertook to sail the Merry Chanter to Boston, and if 
they are delayed on the voyage it is no more our 
affair than it is theirs. But when people pay money 
for their passage it is a different matter.’’ 

I had been fishing that day with Lord Crabstairs, 
and had had very good luck ; I expected to go out 
again the next day, and I said to Doris that for the 
present I thought we were all very well off as we 
were. 

am very well satisfied to wait,’’ said Doris, ^Tor 
it is very pleasant here, and our living is certainly 
cheap 5 but that has nothing to do with our duty 
toward our passengers.” 

^AVhat can we do for them?” I asked. 

^^We can do one of two things,” answered Doris : 
‘^we can pay them back their passage-money, or 
send them to Boston by rail.” 

Either one of those things would be pretty hard 
on us,” I said, especially after having boarded and 
lodged them all this time.” 

^^That has nothing to do with it,” said Doris. Jus- 

331 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


tice is justice, and we should not take their money and 
keep them waiting and waiting here for an exceptional 
high tide.’^ 

I reflected a few moments. ^‘It would he well/’ I 
said, ^^to find out what they think about it. Let us 
call a meeting of the ship’s company.” 

^^Good ! ” cried Doris ; ^^and you must preside. You 
are the proper person to take the chair.” 

After supper the meeting was called, and the whole 
population of the ship, including Griscom Brothers,— 
who had come on board for an evening visit, — attended. 

Ladies and gentlemen,” said I, — and the moment 
I had uttered these words I knew that I had made a 
mistake j I should have said “shipmates,” or some- 
thing of that sort; but I went on, — “my wife and I 
have concluded that we are not doing our duty by 
you. We do not know exactly when we shall be able 
to sail, and we have thought that it might be better 
to send you to Boston by the railroad.” 

At this a little murmur seemed to run through the 
company, and Doris interrupted me. 

“My husband does not mean,” she said, “that we 
have decided to send you to Boston by rail. What 
we desire is to give you an opportunity of expressing 
your feelings in regard to the situation. You have 
paid your money, and you are entitled to a passage 
on this ship to Boston ; but if you think you would 
rather not wait any longer, we will consult together 
and see what it will be best to do. It may be that 
you would like to go to Boston by rail.” 

At this another murmur, louder than the first, was 
heard from the company, and the butcher rose to his 
feet. 


332 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


^Ts a motion in order! ’’ he asked. 

^^Yes/’ said Doris. 

I felt that I was presiding over this meeting in 
rather an odd way, but the oddity did not seem to 
strike any one else, and the butcher put his motion, 
move that we stick to the ship,’^ said he. 

Lord Crabstairs leaned toward Dolor Tripp. What 
do yon think about it ! ” he asked. 

I do not go to Boston in this ship,” she an- 
swered, shall not go at all.” 

Second the motion,” called out Lord Crabstairs. 

^^Before the motion is put,” said Doris, ^^we ought 
to hear what the captains have to say about it.” 

The four captains stood in a row on the starboard 
side of the deck. Being older and more accustomed 
to speak. Captain Timon spoke for his fellow-mariners. 

^^Well,” said he, ^^each of us put some money into 
this venture, and of course we don’t want to lose it. 
If we don’t get to Boston our money is lost. If that 
money is lost, we want to be able to say that it wasn’t 
lost because we gave up the v’yage too soon, but we 
want to be able to say it was lost because a gale of 
wind an’ a high tide didn’t come into Shankashank 
Bay together. Of course that gale an’ that tide may 
never come in together, but we’re in favor of givin’ 
them a leetle longer chance. A good many things in 
this world would do a sight better than they do if 
they had a leetle longer chance. So we four are in 
favor of stickin’ to the ship.” 

He looked at his companions, and each one gave an 
affirmative nod. 

The question was put, and it was unanimously re- 
solved to stick to the ship. 

333 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


Three cheers ! cried Doris. And the ship’s com- 
pany gave three hearty cheers. 

During the meeting Griscom Brothers had neither 
voted nor spoken, but he cheered with tlie others. 

^^Not being an owner, a passenger, or a captain,” 
said he, ^^of coui’se this isn’t my business, but I’m mighty 
glad to see you’re going to stand by the ship. It isn’t 
everybody that’s got a ship to stand by. That’s what 
I said to my Johnny. ^ Stand by the ship. If you’re 
going to Boston, go. When you come back. I’ll take 
you into the baking business, or you can keep on with 
your schoolmastering 5 but whatever you do, you must 
stick to it.’ That’s what I said to my Johnny. And 
now I say to the rest of you, if you don’t sail to-mor- 
row morning I’ll drop in and see you in the afternoon.” 

^Gt’s my opinion,” said the butcher to us, when 
Griscom Brothers had gone on shore, ^^that the school- 
master would rather go to baking than go to sea, but 
he’s afraid to show himself on land till his father has 
settled matters with Mrs. Bodship. If any man can 
do it Griscom Brothers can do it, and he’s promised 
to try.” 


334 


CHAPTEE XVI 


DOLOR TRIPP SETS SAIL 

The very next day a gale came into the bay with a 
flood tide ; but although the wind was strong enough 
to stir up a very fine storm, it did not blow enough 
water into the bay to float the Merry Chanter, 

Our four captains were all ready to take advantage 
of the first indication that our ship was free to ride 
the waves ; but no such indication came. 

^^I’m afraid she’s voted to stick to the sand-bar,” 
said the butcher, when the tide began to ebb. 

With this exception, none of us showed any signs of 
giving up hope. There would be another high tide in 
twelve hours, and the gale might increase in violence. 

But although the storm did not move our ship, it 
greatly delighted some of our company. The bow of 
the vessel pointed out toward the sea, and for nearly 
the whole day one or the other of the ladies stood 
there enjoying the storm. When Doris occupied this 
post I was with her, and when Dolor Tripp was there 
the butcher stood on one side of her and Lord Crab- 
stairs on the other. 

They could have had no better opportunity of 
thoroughly enjoying the storm. The waves rolled in, 
sometimes dashing up to the very feet of the figure of 

335 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


the Merry Chanter, and sometimes throwing the spray 
over his head and into our faces. The wind whistled 
through the cordage and blew the cock from the rig- 
ging. Fortunately he alighted upon the deck, where 
he had not set foot since he had been brought to the 
ship, and he ran screaming and flapping to the coops 
where the other fowls were sheltered. 

It seemed to me that Doris and Dolor Tripp could 
not get enough of this turmoil of the elements. 

^To see it all and be in it,^^ said Doris, when we had 
gone down to the cabin for a brief rest ; ^^to feel the 
storm and not to be afraid of it 5 to look upon the 
rolling, tossing waves and yet feel the deck as im- 
movable as a floor beneath our feet ; to fancy we hear 
the Merry Chanter shouting his sea songs into the 
very teeth of the storm — it is grand ! it is glorious ! 
and it is perfectly safe ! 

For my part, I very soon got enough of the turmoil 
of the elements, and I fancy that the butcher and 
Lord Crabstairs were satisfled as easily as I was ; but 
although I frequently entreated Doris to shorten the 
time of her observations at the bow, I do not believe 
that the supporters of Dolor Tripp gave the least sign 
that they did not like the sea wind almost to take 
away their breath, or the sea water to dash into their 
faces and drench their clothes. The young woman 
was enveloped in a waterproof cloak and hood ; and 
although the butcher possessed a garment of this kind, 
he would not put it on, because by so doing he woifld 
have confessed himself less able to endure bad weather 
than Lord Crabstairs, who had forgotten to provide a 
mackintosh for the voyage. 

Once I proposed to Doris to allow the schoolmaster 

336 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


to have the pleasure of gazing at the storm with her, 
but she indignantly repudiated the proposition. 

^^Look at those two men/’ she said ; ^^do they flinch 
from the side of the woman they love ” 

And of course after that I had nothing more to say 
about a substitute. 

The storm did not increase in violence, but gradu- 
ally subsided, and the next day was pleasant and 
clear. Doris occupied herself with her little chicks. 
The schoolmaster opened the cage of the sandpiper, 
which had become quite tame, and allowed the bird to 
take a constitutional upon the deck. The cock flew 
back to his old position in the rigging and crowed 
aloud his satisfaction at again feeling himself above us 
all. Everything seemed to be going on in the same 
quiet and pleasant methods to which we had become 
accustomed before the gale had tantalized us with a 
half-hope of Boston. 

But in fact everything was not going on quietly and 
pleasantly. Lord Crabstairs and the butcher were 
unquiet and unpleasant ; that is, to each other. By 
the advice of Captain Timon, they had established a 
system in regard to Dolor Tripp. After breakfast one 
of them would take the first watch, and at the end of 
an hour would relinquish his position by her side to 
the other. When the second watch of an hour had 
ended, each of the men would give the lady an hour 
to herself, thus allowing her to be undisturbed until 
noon ; after dinner each man went on watch for an 
hour, and then Dolor Tripp had two hours to herself. 
After supper there were no watches, because Captain 
Timon declared that as long as he commanded the shij) 
he would see no woman overworked. 


337 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


But this apparently amicable arrangement did not 
serve its purpose. It gave each man a fair chance, 
but each man wanted more. They had become of 
little social advantage to us, for the one who happened 
to be off duty was inclined to be silent and was con- 
tinually looking at his watch. 

As for Dolor Tripp herself, Doris and I could see no 
reason to suppose that she liked one man better than 
the other. With Crabstairs she was lively and beam- 
ing, and apparently delighted that it was his watch. 
With the butcher she was lively and beaming, and 
delighted that he was on duty. 

^^What’s wanted on this ship,’’ said Captain Timon 
to us, ^4s one man less, or one woman more. If each 
of them fellers had a gal it’d be all right, but one gal 
isn’t enough for two of ’em.” 

What would you do about it “? ” asked Doris, who was 
beginning to be disturbed at the turn things had taken. 

^^I’d chuck one of ’em overboard,” said the captain, 
^^an’ let him swim ashore.” 

Which one would you chuck?” I asked. 

^^The Englishman,” said the captain. ^^If I’ve got 
to haul down any flag, I’d haul down the Union Jack 
before the Stars and Stripes.” 

^^That wouldn’t be fair,” said Doris. ^^One has just 
as much right as the other.” 

^^I suppose that’s so,” said Captain Timon, with a 
grin ; ^^an’ as we can’t chuck the young woman over- 
board, I guess we’ll have to let the matter settle 
itself.” 

^^It seems to me,” said I, when the captain had left 
us, ^^that a marriage with a British peer would be of 
much more advantage than a marriage with a butcher.” 

338 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


“I don’t agree with you,” said Doris. “Lord Crab- 
stairs has repudiated his peerage, and the butcher has 
repudiated his butcherage ; they now stand on equal 
ground. Before Lord Crabstairs was overtaken and 
crushed by his title he was quite as free and inde- 
pendent a man as the butcher is, and now that he has 
escaped from his peerage he is again just as good as 
the butcher. He has told us he has a small income 
not derived from his father’s family, and the butcher 
has saved money, so in every way they are even, and 
Dolor Tripp ought to be allowed to take her choice 
between them.” 

“The trouble will be,” said I, “to induce her to 
make a choice. I think she likes to have two men 
courting her, and the affair will probably end in a 
fight on the Merry Chanter.’’’’ 

“I don’t believe it,” exclaimed Doris. “Neither of 
those men would so far forget himself as to fight on 
my ship.” 

“Your ship ! ” I said. 

“Oh, I meant to say oui's,” she answered. 

The next day the butcher took the first watch with 
Dolor Tripp. At eight o’clock precisely he offered 
her his arm and invited her to walk the deck with 
him. I noticed that his face wore a serious expres- 
sion, and that he was extremely deferential and polite 
to his companion, guiding her carefully around the 
wet places on deck, which were still damp from the 
morning’s swabbing, and apparently paying the strict- 
est attention to what she might be saying, as if he were 
anxious not to lose a word of her sweet speech. 

In the meantime Lord Crabstairs appeared to be 
in a very unquiet mood. He was restless and excited, 

339 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


and finally filled his pockets with corn and ran up 
into the rigging, where he fed the cock, who for some 
time had been crowing for his breakfast. The moment 
that the butcher’s watch had come to an end Lord 
Crabstairs scuttled down the rope-ladder so fast that 
we were afraid he would slip and break his neck. In 
an instant he was at the side of Dolor Tripp, and, giving 
her his arm, rapidly conducted her to the bow of the 
ship, this portion of the deck being now untenanted. 
The butcher walked slowly toward us as we sat in our 
customary seats at the stern. 

^^You are going to lose a passenger,” he said. 

Which one*?” we cried. 

^^That depends on circumstances,” said the butcher. 
^^You see, I made up my mind last night that things 
couldn’t go on as they were going on, and so right 
after breakfast I proposed to him that we should toss 
up and decide which should put the question to her. 
We’d agreed that neither of us should do that without 
giving the other notice. He was ready, quick as light- 
ning, and we tossed. He called ^ heads,’ and heads it 
was twice. And he’s got her.” 

^^But she may not accept him,” cried Doris. 

^^Oh, she’ll take him ; there’s no doubt about that,” 
said the butcher, looking solemnly down at the deck. 
^Hf he proposes first she’ll take him, and if I had pro- 
posed first she would have taken me. Neither of us 
had any doubt on that point.” 

Fifteen minutes later no one on board could have 
had any doubt on that point, for Lord Crabstairs and 
Dolor Tripp walked toward us, the one with a down- 
cast, blushing face, and the other with the most beam- 
ing; joy-lighted countenance I ever saw. 

340 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


^‘Yon see/’ said Lord Crabstairs, have just 
stepped aft to announce our engagement. We didn’t 
think it exactly the square thing in a small party like 
this to keep dark about it even for a short time.” 

As if you could do it ! ” cried Doris. And then we 
congratulated the happy couple, the butcher shaking 
hands with each of them with a degree of earnest sol- 
emnity not common on such occasions. 

Lord Crabstairs and his lady-love now went below 
to acquaint the schoolmaster and the four captains 
with what had occurred. 

^^And now,” said Doris to the butcher, ^^what were 
you going to say about our losing a passenger ? ” 

^AVell,” said he, ^^if they stay on board I go, but if 
they go ashore I’ll stay here. I don’t want to go back 
on my word about sticking to the ship, but circum- 
stances often give a new twist to things.” 

Indeed they do,” said Doris, speaking in a very 
sympathetic tone and offering her hand to the butcher. 

^^I’m mighty glad of it,” said Captain Cyrus to us, 
a little while afterward. don’t know when I’ve 
heard anythin’ that’s pleased me better. For the life 
of me I couldn’t see how they were goin’ to get out of 
that fix without its endin’ in a row. It was only 
yesterday, madam, that I thought that if you was only 
disengaged it would be all right, for then there would 
be two young women, one for each of them ; but you 
was settled for, and there was only one young woman 
for the two men. But now it’s all straightened out 
and we can have peace on board.” 

I wish here to record the fact that from that moment 
I never made a voluntary observation to Captain Cyrus 
Bodship. 


341 


CHAPTER XVII 


HOW LIZETH AND ALWILDA TOOK IT 

When Griscom Brothers came on board that after- 
noon and heard the news he was delighted. 

thought it would come to that/’ he said. Title 
is bound to get ahead of meat. And what do the 
happy lovers intend to do? Will they remain on 
board and go to Boston ? ” 

^‘Xo/’ said Doris, ^‘they leave us this afternoon. 
Dolor Tripp is in her cabin packing her trunk. She 
will go home to her sisters, and Lord Crabstairs will 
lodge in the village, where he can go and see her 
every day. They are to be married as soon as pos- 
sible.” 

am mighty glad,” said Griscom Brothers, ^^that 
Dolor Tripp is going home ; she’s needed there. Ever 
since Lizeth scraped out Alwilda’s picture them two 
sisters haven’t spoke. That sort of thing has happened 
before. "As much as six weeks or two months has 
passed without either of them speaking a word to each 
other, and at such times Dolor has to be a sort of go- 
between to tell one what the other wants. They’ve 
had a pretty tough pull of it this time without her.” 

“What do they do? ” I asked. “Make signs to each 
other ? ” 


342 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


said the baker. ^^Wben one of them has to 
ask something of the other, she goes out to the hired 
man and tells him to go into the house and speak to 
her sister. But his boots are so dirty that they never 
do this unless they are positively obliged to. Lizeth 
told me that yesterday she was nearly starving for 
butter because she couldn’t make up her mind to tell 
that man to ask Alwilda where she had put the milk- 
house key.” 

Dolor Tripp now came on deck ready to go ashore, 
and in a few moments Lord Crabstairs appeared, glow- 
ing with ruddy joy, and loaded with a huge valise, a 
bundle of rugs, a hat-box, and a collection of umbrellas 
and canes. 

Their intention was to go together and acquaint 
the sisters of Dolor Tripp with what had happened, 
and ask their blessing. Doris thought it was the 
proper thing for her to go with Dolor ; and as it prom- 
ised to be an interesting occasion, I thought it the 
proper thing to go with Doris. Griscom Brothers said 
that on his way to the village he could stop at the 
Tripp house just as well as not, and that he would do 
it ; whereupon the schoolmaster remarked that as the 
party would be so large he would not be afraid to go 
with them himself. At first the butcher seemed in- 
clined to stay on board, but after taking me aside and 
remarking that if he did not go with us it might look 
as if he were showing bad feeling in the matter, he 
joined the party. 

Only the four captains remained on the Merry 
Chanter. These faithful mariners must be at their 
posts in case the exceptional wind and the exceptional 
tide came into the bay together. 

343 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


Our boat bad to make two trips before we were all 
lauded, and then we walked to the bouse. Griscom 
Brothers and tbe schoolmaster carried the huge valise, 
in order that Lord Crabstairs could give one arm to 
his lady-love j and the butcher, to his honor be it said, 
relieved his late rival of the hat-box and the package 
of umbrellas and canes. Dolor Tripp said she could 
send the hired man for her baggage. 

We found Lizeth in the poultry-yard. 

^^Lizeth,’’ said Dolor Tripp, blushing a little, ^This 
is Lord Crabstairs.’’ 

^^Lord which?” exclaimed Lizeth. 

Crabstairs,” replied her sister. We are going to 
be married.” 

Lizeth looked at them in astonishment. ^^You 
two ! ” she exclaimed. 

^^Only the two of us,” said Dolor. ^^And I want 
you to like him, Lizeth j you ought to like your 
brother-in-law.” 

^^Do you mean to say,” said Lizeth, speaking slowly, 
^^that this man is a sure-enough foreign lord?” 

^^Yes,” said her sister, ^^he’s an out-and-out peer of 
the British realm.” 

Lizeth looked as if she were going to whistle, but she 
did not. 

^Gt is a fair and square thing for me to say,” re- 
marked Lord Crabstairs, ^That I am a lord against my 
will, and my title brings me no property except two 
centuries of debts.” 

^^But you really are an English nobleman?” asked 
Lizeth. 

“Yes,” said Lord Crabstairs, “I am.” 

Lizeth now looked steadfastly at her sister and at 

344 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


the sturdy Englishman by her side. Then she looked 
at the rest of ns, and then spoke. 

don’t believe in monarchies,” she said, “nor in 
kings, nor in crowns and sceptres, nor in aristocracies, 
nor in peers and realms. I am a plain, free-born, in- 
dependent republican, and look down upon empires 
and thrones. My ancestors did not come over in the 
Mayflower, but I am quite sure that they came in a 
plain wooden ship, and didn’t put on any airs. As I 
said before, I’ve nothing to do with peers and peer- 
esses, nor kings and queens. I am a free-born Ameri- 
can, and a free-born American I shall die. But if he 
really is a lord I suppose he can have you.” At this 
Dolor Tripp hung upon her sister’s neck and kissed 
her, and then we all went to make the announcement 
to Alwilda. 

We found the elder sister in the dining-room paint- 
ing a picture upon the wall. She was at work upon 
a small blue house, surrounded by flowers and shrub- 
beries of the brightest and gayest colors. Birds with 
brilliant plumage were flying through the air ; there 
was a sunset glow in the sky ,♦ and a young woman, 
with a red shawl and a yellow petticoat, was playing 
a harp in the foreground. 

Dolor Tripp was so struck by this work of art that 
she was obliged to satisfy her curiosity about it before 
stating the object of her visit. 

“What in the world is that, Alwilda?” she ex- 
claimed. 

“That,” said the artist, stepping back from the wall, 
but taking no notice of the presence of our party, “is 
a home in the midst of all sorts of things that are joyful 
to look at, or to listen to, or to smell ; but, in spite of 

345 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


all that, the person that lives in the house is blue, and 
everything in it is blue, and the very house itself is blue.’’ 

^‘Do you live in that house? ” asked her sister. 

^^At present I do,” was the answer. 

^^Well, I am come to make your house a livelier 
color,” said Dolor Tripp. ^^Alwilda, this is Lord 
Crabstairs.” 

The tall woman turned the front of her black-and- 
white sunbonnet upon his lordship. ^^What does he 
want? ” she said. ^^Some more chickens? ” 

-^^No,” said Dolor Tripp. ^^He wants me.” 

Alwilda looked steadfastly at the couple, now hold- 
ing each other by the hand. 

^^A lord? ” she said. 

^^Yes,” said her sister, ^^really and truly an English 
lord.” 

^‘You are quite sure,” asked Alwilda, ^That he isn’t 
a German count ? ” 

“Of course not,” replied her sister, hotly. 

“Or a Spanish duke?” asked Alwilda. 

“Kidiculous ! ” said Dolor. “How could he be? ” 

“Or a Highland chief, or an African king?” asked 
the other. 

And at this we all laughed. 

“Well,” said Alwilda, “they are just as likely to 
say they are one of these things as another, and I don’t 
suppose it makes much difference which it is. But if 
you two are really going to be married there is one 
thing I want to ask you. When you set up house- 
keeping, do you intend to have one single bedstead, 
and no more, in your spare room?” 

“What in the world do you mean by that?” eried 
her sister. 


346 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


mean/’ said the other, ^^that I want to know, 
when I come to see you, if I’m to have the spare room 
all to myself, or if there’s to be somebody else there at 
the same time with me. If she’s to be there,” motion- 
ing out of doors, ^^at the same time that I am, then I 
don’t want to go, and I don’t want to have anything 
to do with your marrying or your housekeeping. But 
if I’m to have the room to myself, then I suppose 
there’s nothing more to be said.” 

^^You shall have it,” cried Lord Crabstairs. ^^I 
shall have a bedstead built in which there shall not 
be room for two fishing-rods.” 

^^Then, Alwilda,” cried Dolor Tripp, ^^you approve 
of our marriage ? ” 

^^It’s better than drowning,” said her sister. ^^And 
taking it all in all,” she continued, after a little re- 
flection, ^^I’m rather glad you wanted to marry a 
foreigner. Americans are too uppish ; but when you 
get hold of a man that is accustomed to being down- trod- 
den, it’s easy to keep him so.” 

At this Lord Crabstairs roared with laughter till the 
ceiling echoed, and we all joined in. 

Alwilda did not smile, but looked from one to the 
other, and when the laughter had ceased she asked 
Griscom Brothers how much she owed him for bread. 

The merry baker declared he did not carry his ac- 
count with him, and then Lord Crabstairs stepped 
forward and spoke. 

wish you to understand, madam,” he said to 
Alwilda, ^^that your sister is not marrying a rich lord. 
My income is a very small one, and I shall be obliged 
to go into some work or other to support myself and 
my wife.” 


347 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


money doesn’t matter,” said Alwilda, turning 
toward her picture. Dolor has money.” 

“I’d like to know where,” exclaimed her youngest 
sister. 

“In the hank,” said Alwilda, “gathering interest.” 

“And you never told me ! ” cried Dolor Tripp, ex- 
citedly. 

“Why should I?” answered Alwilda. “What call 
had you for money? When you should come of age 
you were to have it, or when you should marry you 
were to have it. Now you and your African king 
will have it.” 

The statement that Dolor Tripp was possessed of a 
fortune, though probably a small one, created a pro- 
found sensation among us, and our congratulations 
wxre warm and sincere. We were about to depart, 
when Doris addressed Alwilda. 

“I would like very much to know,” she said, 
“whether or not you now intend to alter the color of 
the house in your picture ? ” 

“Well,” said Alwilda, meditatively, “I think I shall 
paint the roof red, but I shall wait to see how things 
turn out before I change the color of the rest of the 
house.” 

“I tell you what it is,” said Griscom Brothers, when 
we were outside, and he and Lord Crabstairs were 
starting for the village, “there will soon be an end to 
them two sisters keeping mum to each other. There’s 
nothing on earth could keep them from talking about 
Dolor’s getting married.” 

It was late in the evening when we reached the Merry 
Chanter j and our supper was much less lively than when 
Dolor Tripp and Lord Crabstairs were with us. 

348 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


had begun to feel satisfied to wait here/’ said 
Doris, when we had gone on deck, ^^but now I am 
sure I shall feel lonely, and I think we must ask the 
captains to do their very best to leave the bay and 
start for Boston, even if the tide and wind do not 
exactly suit.” 

^^Yes,” said I, ^^we’ll talk to them in the morning.” 

^^What do you think about it?” she said to the 
butcher. 

I 

^^Well,” he answered, don’t know that it’s my 
place to give advice.” 

You’ re too modest,” said Doris. 

Shortly after this the butcher took the opportunity 
to speak to me privately. 

^^If I were to marry that young woman who’s left 
us,” said he, ^^and she was on board this ship, and wor- 
rying and hankering to start for Boston, it strikes me 
I would tell her all about the sand-bank and the bar- 
nacles and the seventy cart-loads of paving-stones in 
the hold.” 

I looked at him severely. ^^But you are not mar- 
ried to her,” I said ; ^^and not being married, you do 
not know what a married person should say to the 
person to whom he is married.” 

To this the butcher made no reply. 


349 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE CAPTAINS SPEAK 

The next morning Doris spoke ker mind to the cap- 
tains. 

^^We must do something/^ she said. we canT 
do one thing, let us do another. We must set sail for 
Boston without delay.’^ 

Madam/’ said Captain Garnish, Dolor Tripp’s 
trunk is still on hoard, and no matter what happens, 
we cannot sail until she sends for that.” 

Doris stamped her foot impatiently. 

What a thing to wait for ! ” she said. 

Half an hour afterward a man with a cart appeared 
on the shore, and hailing the ship, he shouted lustily 
that he had come for a trunk. Two of the captains 
took the trunk to him in the boat, and when they 
returned we noticed that each of them heaved a little 
sigh. 

^^Xow the last link is broken,” remarked Doris. 

uThere are some links,” said the butcher, ^^that are 
mighty hard to break.” 

Doris looked at him compassionately. She thought 
he referred to the link between himself and Dolor 
Tripp, but I knew that he meant the link between 
the bottom of the Merry Chanter and the sand-bank. 

850 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


It was now plain to me that the captains felt that 
matters had come to a crisis, and that they must either 
do something or say something. For an hour they 
held a conference in the forecastle, and then they 
came aft in a body. 

Captain Timon, being the oldest, spoke first. 

cap’ns,” said he, ^^have been considerin’ a lot 
about this ship, an’ as the owners, an’ perhaps the 
passengers that are left, may be gettin’ a little worried 
at the longishness of our v’yage to Boston, we feel— an’ 
it’s no more than right to let ’em know it — that sailin’ 
to Boston in this vessel isn’t what we call plain sailin’. 
This is an old vessel, an’ she’s been lyin’ in the dock 
so long that her hull is a good deal more barnacle 
than it is timber. Now, it’s pretty nigh impossible to 
sail a ship when her hull is more than half barnacles. 
Of course most of the barnacles could be scraped off 
at low tide, but if we did that we’d open the seams 
of the old schooner, an’ she’d leak like a flour- 
sieve.” 

^^Why didn’t you tell us this before?” cried Doris, 
indignantly. 

^^Well,” said Captain Timon, slowly, ^^you was the 
owners, an’ you wanted to go to Boston, an’ we would 
have sailed you there if we could have done it.” 

^^And there’s another thing,” said Captain Garnish. 
^‘Them pavin’ -stones in the hold is too heavy for 
this vessel; they sink her too deep. Of course we 
could go to work and throw ’em out ; but I’ve fol- 
lowed the sea pretty nigh all my life, and I know that 
it wouldn’t be safe to take this schooner outside the 
bay with a pound less ballast in her than she’s got in 
her now.” 


351 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


^^This should certainly have been told to us/’ said 
Doris, very sternly. 

There’s another p’int,” said Captain Teel, ^That 
might be overlooked by people that ain’t sailors. This 
ship is short-handed. Of course there’s enough of us 
aboard to sail her in fair weather, and when we cleared 
for Boston we thought that the spell of fine weather 
we was then havin’ would more than likely last to the 
end of the v’yage. But there’s no knowin’ what sort 
of weather we are likely to have now, and if we was 
to be beatin’ up the coast in a heavy gale, and if one 
of us was to be at the wheel, and another on the look- 
out, and another castin’ the lead, and another battenin’ 
down the for’ard hatches, it stands to reason that there 
wouldn’t be nobody to take in the tops’ls.” 

Doris was fiushed with anger, and I was on the 
point of bursting out into uncontrollable vituj^era- 
tion, when Captain Cyrus, with a smiling face and 
pleasant voice, spoke up. 

What we cap’ns want to do,” said he, ^Ts to be fair 
all round. We want to be fair to you, and fair to 
ourselves. Now, here’s Cap’n Timon, Cap’n Garnish, 
and Cap’n Teel, that’s all got houses of their own, 
which they’ve let furnished by the month to summer 
visitors. Now, if we had sailed straight from Mooseley 
to Boston we’d have been there and back before the 
month was out, and these three cap’ns could have been 
on hand to collect the advance rent for another month, 
either from them tenants or some others. But as 
things is, and is likely to be, it don’t stand to reason 
that we can get to Boston and back before the end of 
the month. Now, I am not speakin’ for myself, but 
for my mates. I’ve got a house, and it’s furnished, but 

352 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


I can’t let it, for there is no knowin’ what time Mrs. 
Bod^hip might want to come there, and it wouldn’t 
do for her to find a tenant in it. So you see it’s not 
my interests I’m speakin’ for.” 

Doris could not say a word, but my anger broke 
forth. 

^^You miserable old salt-pickled fishermen ! ” said I, 
^^why don’t you speak the truth and be done with it? 
You know that you have run our vessel aground and 
you can’t get her off. I could have sailed her better 
myself.” 

Captain Garnish advanced with hashing eye and 
clinched fist. 

^^Young man,” he roared, ^4f you hadn’t your wife 
with you, I’d show you the difference between a 
pickled fisherman and a live clam ! ” 

The butcher now stepped boldly between the cap- 
tains and the owners. 

^^ISTo more of this,” he said. am only a pas- 
senger, but so long as I am on this ship there’ll be no 
fighting on board of her.” 

The butcher owned a cleaver, and his words were 
respected. 

Doris rushed down to her cabin, where she burst 
out crying, and I followed her. We had rather a 
doleful time together ; but after a while we heard the 
cheery voice of Griscom Brothers, who had come on 
board for his daily visit, and we went on deck. After 
his usual hearty salutations to us all, the baker ad- 
dressed the butcher : 

'^Lord Crabstairs sent a message to you. He said 
he hasn’t no use for chickens now. He told me to tell 
you that, expecting to spend most of his spare time 

353 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


till he gets married in going backward and forward 
between the village and the Tripps’ house, he makes 
a present of all his poultry to you, knowing that you 
will take good care of it.” 

^^If Lord Crabstairs thinks,” said the butcher, ^^that 
what has happened is going to be covered up by nine 
full-grown hens and a year-old cockerel, he has mis- 
taken his man ; but if he just wants to give them to 
me as plain fowls from one man to another. I’ll take 
them and send him thanks.” 

That’s what he meant,” cried Griscom Brothers. 
^^He as much as said so to me ; and so you can just 
pitch in and feed them, for they are yours.” 

Looking about him as he was speaking, Griscom 
Brothers perceived that something had happened, and 
that all was not right with us. He was about to speak, 
when I led him aside and explained the situation. 

That’s a pity ; that’s a great pity,” said he, shaking 
his head. ^Ht’s a bad thing to have ill-feeling break out 
among people who are voyaging together on a ship, but 
we must see what can be done to straighten out matters.” 

Before, however, he could offer any suggestions to 
this end, the butcher came aft with a message from 
the four captains. I was not on very good terms with 
the butcher, but he spoke pleasantly to me as well as 
to Doris. He informed us that the captains had de- 
cided that, on the morrow, they would return to their 
homes by land in order to attend to their private 
affairs. If, after the end of the month, it should be 
considered advisable not to endeavor to take the Merry 
Chanter to Boston, they would be content with their 
share of the money paid by the passengers, and would 
relinquish all further claims upon the schooner. 

354 


THE MERRY CHANTER 

that case/’ said Doris, must go on shore, 

also.” 

^^It is base conduct on the part of the captains,” 
said I. do not object to go on shore, but I object 
to being forced to do so by their desertion of our 
ship.” 

^^The ship shall not be deserted,” said the butcher, 
shall remain on board. I have all my belongings 
here, and I am very comfortable. I have my poultry 
to take care of and plenty of things to do ; and as I 
can go on shore in the boat whenever I feel like it, I 
am not afraid to be here without sailors, for I don’t 
believe any storm that could come into this bay could 
move the Merry Chanter. However, I shall keep the 
anchor out, for the sake of appearances. It doesn’t 
mean any more than ^ esquire ’ to a man’s name, but it 
looks well. Now, how does that plan strike the 
owners? ” 

Doris declared that if the butcher really desired to 
stay on the ship, we should be very glad to have him 
do so. 

^Hn that case,” said Griscom Brothers, ^^if you want 
Johnny to stay with you, he can do it ; but if you 
don’t want him. I’ll take him home and set him to 
baking. It is time he was in some solid business. 
And as for you, madam, and your husband, if you 
want to stay around in this neighborhood, there is the 
Tripp house. There’s plenty of room in it, and I be- 
lieve Alwilda and Lizeth would like you to board 
with them for a while.” 

^^That would suit me exactly,” said Doris. wish 
to be somewhere where I can see the Merry Chanter 
whenever I choose to go and look at it.” 

355 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


^^"WTiich is quite natural/’ said Griscom Brothers j 
^^and we had better eall this business settled. And 
now I’ll go ashore, and engineer the matter with Al- 
wilda and Lizeth. I know I can do it.” 

The next day the four captains, being ready to go 
before we were, came in a body to take leave of us. 

^^We don’t want to go away,” said Captain Timon, 
speaking for the others, without sayin’ to you both 
that we part, on our side, quite friendly. Bygones is 
ibygones. If we could have got you to Boston, we 
would have got you there, an’ been glad of it. But 
we couldn’t and we didn’t, so there’s an end of it. If 
you ever get your ship floated, an’ towed into fresh 
water where her barnacles would drop off, an’ have 
her fitted up so that she won’t need so many pavin’ - 
stones, we might be willin’ to ship on her again, an’ 
see what we could do to get her to Boston for you. 
But till that time comes, we bid you good-by. An’ 
here’s our hands, wishin’ you good luck an’ lots of it.” 

Doris shed some tears as she shook hands with the 
four old mariners ; and although my sense of personal 
dignity demanded that I should not take their hands, I 
did so for 'fear of further annoying my wife. 

In the afternoon Doris and I also left our ship,— 
temporarily, as my wife earnestly declared, — and re- 
paired to the house of the Tripp sisters, who were 
perfectly willing to accommodate us until we deter- 
mined what it should be best for us to do. 

The schoolmaster went home with his father, who 
vowed to protect him against Mrs. Bodship at all 
hazards ; and the butcher was left alone on board the 
Merry Chanter. 


356 


CHAPTEE XIX 


HORRIBLE SEAWEEDS FLAP OYER HER 

Our days with the Tripp family passed pleasantly 
enough. I went fishing, and sometimes Doris went 
with me. Doris went sketching, and sometimes I 
went with her. Dolor Tripp was in high spirits, and 
her sister Lizeth developed quite a pleasant humor. 
Lord Crabstairs spent every day, and the greater part 
of every evening, in the company of his beloved one ; 
and, consequently, he was a good deal in our com- 
pany, and seldom failed to make things lively in one 
way or another. 

Griscom Brothers was a regular visitor. He had 
not yet arranged to leave his quarters over the old 
kitchen, and generally spent the nights there, giving 
up his room in the village to his son. He did not 
altogether relinquish his line of business as a ghost, 
especially when he had reason to believe that on ac- 
count of moonlight walks or late departure of a visitor 
some outer door had been left unfastened. In his 
wanderings about the house he frequently deposited 
some delicacy in his line at the door of the room oc- 
cupied by Doris and myself, and I am sure that in 
this regard Dolor Tripp was not forgotten. The 
butcher could be depended upon for a visit at least 

357 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


every second day. Occasionally the schoolmaster came^ 
but he was a quiet man who did not care to do much 
walking about the country. 

In about ten days after our arrival^ Dolor Tripp and 
Lord Crabstairs were married. A clergyman came 
over from the village, and we had a very pleasant 
little wedding, which was made more cheerful by Al- 
wilda, who, as soon as the ceremony was completed, 
proceeded at once to the dining-room, and changed 
the color of the blue house in her latest picture to 
bright yellow with scarlet window-frames. After a 
banquet, in which the talent of Griscom Brothers 
shone to marvellous effect, the happy couple proceeded 
on their wedding-trip. 

About a week after the wedding, Doris and I were 
down at the edge of Shankashank Bay. Across the 
stretch of water that separated the Merry Chanter from 
the shore Doris and the butcher were holding a high- 
pitched eonversation, when this voice-destroying dia- 
logue was eut short by the arrival of a boy in a funny 
little cart resembling a wooden wash-basin on wheels, 
who brought us a telegram from the nearest station. 
The message was from Montreal, at which place we 
knew the newly married couple intended making a 
considerable stay. It was from the young bride, and 
it read thus : 

‘ ‘ I am shipwrecked, and lying drowned upon the shore, 
cold and dead. Horrible seaweeds flap over me. He will 
write. —Dolor. ’ ’ 

With pallid cheeks Doris and I read this again and 
again, but what it meant we could not divine. We 
knew it meant misery of some sort, but what sort of 
misery neither of us could imagine. At last, not 

358 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


knowing what to do, we determined to take the 
butcher into our confidence, and hailed him to come 
ashore. In a few minutes his boat grated upon the 
sand. 

He read the telegram, and looked as black as night. 
Doris whispered in my ear : ^‘He must not go back 
after his cleaver. We must not let him do that ! ’’ 
In a few moments, however, the storm-clouds on the 
face of the butcher began to disappear. 

^^At first I thought,’’ he said, ^^that that man had 
deceived her ; that he’s not a lord. But, considering 
that he didn’t want to be a lord, and put on no airs 
about it, I don’t believe the trouble is there.” 

^^But where is it? ” said I. 

The butcher shook his head. 

^Ht’s no use going to them,” he said, ^^until we know 
what has happened. We must wait for the letter.” 

^^Do you think of going to them?” asked Doris, in 
surprise. 

Certainly,” said the butcher, ^4f I am needed.” 

That was a doleful day for us. We felt obliged to 
tell the Tripp sisters of the telegram, and the effect of 
the mysterious message was to throw Lizeth into a fit 
of grumbling that Dolor should be so foolish as to stir 
them up with a telegram like that when a letter was 
on its way, and to send Alwilda into the dining-room, 
where she began work upon an enormous tombstone, 
large enough to contain the names of all her family. 

The butcher went to the village, where he said he 
would stay until a letter came, and then bring it to us 
forthwith. Griscom Brothers was taken into council, 
and he declared it was his opinion that it was clams. 
Dolor would be sure to call for them, and as the Cana- 

359 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


dians were not a clam-eating people they probably did 
not know how to cook them. Nothing would be more 
likely to give rise to a telegram like that than a 
quantity of badly cooked clams. He felt keenly on 
this point, for he knew how clams should be cooked so 
that they would hurt no one, and had he been in Mont- 
real the case might have been quite different. 

The next day at noon, the butcher, who had stayed 
in the village all night, leaving his poultry, the sand- 
piper, and the Merry Chanter to take care of themselves, 
brought a letter from Lord Crabstairs. 

It was addressed to me, and read as follows : 

‘ ‘ My dear Sir : I am sorry to be obliged to write to you 
that I have been knocked out of time worse than any 
man ever was since the beginning of the world. My 
wife sent you a telegram this morning, but she tells me 
she did not go into details, so I shall write you how mat- 
ters stand, although it is not of the least use, except to 
make our friends unhappy. We stopped at Boston, be- 
cause Dolor said that as she had originally started to go 
there she would like to do it, and she did me the honor 
to declare that she travelled with as merry a chanter as 
if she had sailed in your ship. Then she wanted to go to 
Montreal, and we went there; for I was not in the least 
afraid to travel in Canada, where I knew no one, and 
where I should register no name but that of George Gar- 
ley, which I bore before I came into the title. Well, we 
saw the sights of Montreal, and they did us no harm. 
But one of the Cabinet Ministers happened to be in 
town, and they gave him a public reception, and of 
course Dolor wanted to go to that, and we went. A lot 
of heavy swells went in ahead of us, each with some 
sort of a title or other, and I noticed as Dolor heard 
these names called out she got more and more uneasy, 

360 


THE MERRY CHANTER 

and just as we were coming up to the scratch she took 
out of my hand a card on which I had written ‘ Mr. and 
Mrs. Garley,’ and herself gave to the usher one of the 
cards which we had had printed for use in the States 
only. When we were announced as Lord and Lady 
Crabstairs, we created a fine sensation, I assure you ; for 
nobody of that rank had gone in yet, and I dare say 
there is no duchess in England who can carry herself in 
better style and form than my little wife did. She was 
as proud as a gilded peacock, and I must say that I was 
a good deal that way myself. I had never had any 
good of the title, and I was glad something had come of 
it. Dolor was so particularly tickled by the deferential * 
manner in which she was treated that I was ashamed I 
had ever thought of presenting the card of Mr. and Mrs. 
Garley. The next morning, when I went into the read- 
ing-room of the hotel, the first man I saw was that infer- 
nal attorney who had brought me the news, in front of 
my own house, of my accession to the title and the 
debts. It is of no use to write much about this ; it is too 
beastly miserable even to think about. The wretched 
cad had found out I had gone to America, and the 
inheritors of the claims had sent him over to look me 
up. But he had not heard a bit about me until he saw 
in the morning paper that Lord and Lady Crabstairs 
had attended the reception the evening before. He had 
the papers, and he nabbed me on the spot, and now I 
go back to England to spend the rest of my life in a 
debtor’s dungeon, and to think that my poor dear did 
it simply because she thought I ought to be as big a 
swell as any of them. I vow I wish I had done it my- 
self. Well, it is all up. Life is all up. Everything is 
all up, so far as we are concerned. The whole world 
has gone to the bad. What is to be done, I cannot say. 
In a week I am to sail for England, but it is impossible 
for Dolor to go with me. She would not be allowed to 

361 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


share my dungeon, and I would not have her do it. 
Moreover, I could not endure to look through a narrow 
slit in the wall and see her wandering about the neigh- 
borhood where she did not know one street from another, 
and wasting to a skeleton day by day. But how I am 
to go away and leave her, I know not. So here we are 
in blackest misery. By the eleven devils who continu- 
ally howl around Judas Iscariot, I wish that the first 
Lord Crabstairs had been born dead ! 

“ Yours wretchedly, ‘ ‘ Crabstairs. 

“ For the sake of Dolor, I stick to the title.” 

This letter was read aloud in the presence of the 
two Tripp sisters, Doris, and the butcher. When it 
was finished Alwilda and Lizeth arose without a word, 
put on their black-and-white striped sunbonnets, and 
went out — one to the dining-room, and the other to 
the poultry-yard. Doris and I gazed at each other in 
silence, but the butcher stood up with flashing eyes and 
heaving breast. 

^^Who is to go to Montreal V’ he said. 

^^To Montreal ? I repeated. There’s no use in any 
one going there in a case like this j there is nothing to 
be done.” 

no one else goes,” said the butcher, shall go.” 

^^That you shall not do,” said Doris. ^Mt would not 
be suitable or proper. I am going.” 

She went, and of course I went with her. 

We found the bridal couple in doleful plight. Lord 
Crabstairs was a prisoner in his hotel, awaiting the 
departure of the steamer on which his passage had 
been taken. Poor Dolor was plunged in blackest 
grief. 


362 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


course you did not understand the telegram I 
sent/’ she sobbed. ^‘It wasn’t half strong enough.” 

Her husband was a brave fellow, and tried to put 
the best face on the matter, especially when his wife 
was present. 

dare say I shall have a bit of a jolly time now 
and then,” he said, ^^and that things will not be quite 
as bad as we have been thinking they would be. I 
never speak to that wretched cad of an attorney about 
anything, but I have heard that they turn debtors 
into a court now and then to take the fresh air, and 
perhaps they’ll let me keep chickens. That would 
be no end jolly ! And, more than that,” he exclaimed, 
his whole face lighting up, who knows but that they’ll 
let me have a cow? I know I could keep a cow in a 
stone courtyard, and if they will let me serve milk 
and eggs to the fellows in the other dungeons I would 
' have lots to do, especially when it came to the collect- 
ing of the monthly bills.” 

This kind of talk may have cheered the poor man 
a little, but it did not cheer us. Our principal con- 
cern was for Dolor. We had read stories of the Fleet 
and the Marshalsea, and supposed it likely that Lord 
Crabstairs might in time learn to endure life in a 
debtors’ prison; but Dolor would be an absolute 
stranger in England, and she could not be allowed 
to go there. So there was nothing for her to do but 
to return to her home. 

We spoke privately to Lord Crabstairs on this sub- 
ject, and he agreed with us. 

^^Of course that’s the place for her,” he said, ^^and 
I would rather think of her there than anywhere else, 
but there is one thing about it that worries me. I 

363 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


don’t want her to go there if that butcher intends to 
live in the neighborhood. I^ot that I have anything 
to say against the butcher. He is an honest man, and 
tossed up fair every time, and if at the last tossing 
two tails had come up instead of two heads, perhaps 
he might have had her. But that’s neither here nor 
there. Heads turned up, and there was an end to 
him.” 

Neither of ns answered this remark. Doris looked 
as if she had something to say, but she did not say it. 

will write to him,” exclaimed Lord Crabstairs, 
^^and put the matter fair and square before him. 
Then he will surely see it as I do.” 

Anything like that,” said Doris, somewhat severely, 
^^yon must certainly attend to yourself.” 

Lord Crabstairs wrote to the butcher and put the 
matter fair and square before him. On the next day 
but one this answer came by telegraph : 

“ If her coming home depends on my going, I go.” 

There is a man for you ! ” exclaimed Doris, with a 
slight flush on her face as she read this telegram. 

I made no reply. The butcher was well enough in 
his way, but he was not a man for me. 

Dolor knew nothing of the letter or the telegram. 
That evening she said to us : 

have been thinking about going home. It will 
be perfectly dreadful with my husband snatched away 
to a living death, and every hope in life shattered and 
shivered, but in some ways it may be better than it 
used to be. I shall have more company. I dare say 
the Merry Chanter will not sail for ever so long, and I 
shall often see you two, and perhaps the captains, to 

3fl4 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


say nothing of Griscom Brothers and the schoolmaster. 
The butcher, too, is a very pleasant man, and probably 
he will always live in the neighborhood.’’ 

At this Lord Crabstairs leaned his head upon his 
hands and gave a groan. Dolor stepped quickly to 
his side and put her arm about his neck. 

^^Poor fellow ! ” she said. wish I better knew 
how to help you to bear your misery ! And to think,” 
she suddenly exclaimed, standing erect, with her eyes 
sparkling with indignation, ^‘the people who really 
owe these horrible debts, as well as the people to whom 
the debts were owed, have been dead so long that they 
have even ceased to be corpses ! ” 


365 


CHAPTEE XX 

THE COLLECTOR OF ANTIQUES 

Doris and I agreed to stay in Montreal until the very 
last minute, and when the steamer should be entirely 
out of sight we would return home, taking Dolor with 
us. To Lord Crabstairs we privately promised that 
before starting we would telegraph to the butcher. 

Saturday was the steamer’s sailing- day, and on Fri- 
day morning the attorney came to Lord Crabstairs’s 
room, where Doris and I were paying an early visit to 
the unfortunate couple. Lord Crabstairs had declared 
he would never again speak a word to this attorney, 
who had dogged him across the Atlantic. But this 
time he broke through his rule. 

^‘What do you mean,” he cried, ^^by this imperti- 
nence ? Is it not enough to have one cur keeping guard 
outside the door without another pushing himself into 
the room ? ” 

This harsh speech made not the least impression upon 
the attorney, who quietly remarked : ^^Half an hour 
ago I received a message by cable concerning you 
which I did not in the least understand. But in pick- 
ing up the morning paper I find this despatch from 
London, which is a curious bit of news, and may 

366 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


interest yon.’^ And handing a newspaper to Lord 
Crabstairs, be stepped to one side. 

Lord Crabstairs took the paper and read aloud the 
following news item : 

“Considerable interest has lately been excited with 
regard to the case of Lord Crabstairs, who recently suc- 
ceeded, not to the estate,— for there is none,— but to the 
title of this ancient family. It is well known that his 
only inheritance was a vast mass of debts, some of which 
began to accumulate in the seventeenth century, and 
which were increased and multiplied by a long line of 
ancestors, so that many years ago it became impossible 
for any descendant of the house to pay them. In 
consequence of this unfortunate state of affairs the 
new Lord Crabstairs became liable to arrest at the 
moment of his coming into the title, and to be sent 
to the debtors’ jail, where so many of his forefathers 
had passed their lives. The public has already been 
made aware that this new nobleman evaded the oflScers 
of the law and fled to America, where, in Montreal, 
he was recently arrested as an absconding debtor. 
The publication of the facts in the London papers at- 
tracted the attention of an American gentleman, Mr. 
Copley Westbridge, who has been for some time in Europe 
expending a large portion of his great fortune in collect- 
ing material with which to found an antiquarian museum 
in New York. Mr. Westbridge pays much attention to 
antiquities of every kind, and the case of Lord Crabstairs 
interested him greatly. He obtained permission to exam- 
ine the vast mass of claims, bonds, defeasances, judg- 
ments, executions, warrants, mortgages, bills, writs of 
elegit and of capias ad satisfaciendum^ and legal papers 
of every variety originating in the reigns, protectorates, 
and regencies of two centuries; and all so worded and 
drawn as to bear upon the unfortunate man who hap- 

367 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


pened to be Lord Crabstairs, no matter in what period of 
time or part of the world. This mass of ancient and 
curious documents appeared so valuable to Mr. West- 
bridge that he bought the whole of it for his museum. 
The descendants of the original creditors consented to 
accept a fixed price for the collective debts, and Mr. West- 
bridge signed a quitclaim, which entirely absolved Lord 
Crabstairs and his descendants from any connection with 
the debts of his forefathers. By this transaction this 
unique and highly valuable collection of legal curiosities 
goes to the States, and a British peer is made a freeman 
on his native soil.” 

As Lord Crabstairs read this piece of news his voice 
became louder and louder, and I am sure the eyes of 
all of us opened wider and wider, and that our hearts 
beat faster and faster. Dropping the paper. Lord 
Crabstairs stepped toward the attorney. 

^^What is the message you received?” he shouted. 

^^It was very short,” replied the attorney ; merely 
these words : ^No further claims against your prisoner ; 
release him.’ Therefore, my lord, you are no longer 
under arrest. Good morning.” 

With two shouts of wild ecstasy Lord and Lady 
Crabstairs rushed into each other’s arms, and Doris 
and I quietly withdrew. 

The gayest, happiest, and most madly hilarious 
three people in the Dominion of Canada that day 
were Doris and Lord and Lady Crabstairs. I, too, 
was wonderfully well pleased, but my pleasure did 
not exhibit itself in extravagant manifestations such 
as those of my companions. 

^^AVhat are you going to do?” asked Doris of Lord 
Crabstairs as we all sat at luncheon together. ^^Are 

368 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


you going back to England? Have you any sort of 
an ancestral pile left to you ? 

really do not know,’’ replied bis lordsbip. 
have never gone very deeply into the beastly business. 
Whether there was an entail or no entail, there is 
nothing left, anyway. But if anything were left, I 
should have nothing to do with a stick or a stone that 
belonged to my ancestors, for fear that the American 
antiquarian had overlooked a paper or two, and that 
some sort of antiquated debt in geometrical progres- 
sion still stuck to the property. I own a neat little 
place in Bucks, and if everything hasn’t been scattered 
to the four winds, there is a cow there, and a lot of 
high-bred poultry, two dogs, and a cat, and some of the 
prettiest flower-beds you ever saw in your life. Lord 
and Lady Crabstairs will live there, and if the other 
lords of the realm think that my house is too humble 
an abode for a British peer they can smother their 
mortification until I make money enough to build a 
better one. I intend that the next house of the Crab- 
stairs shall date from me.” 

It was decided that the best thing for us all to do 
was to return together to the Tripp house. We wrote 
at once to announce the good news of our coming, and 
we were met at the railroad-station by a little crowd 
of friends. Lizeth Tripp was there, but not Alwilda, 
who would not leave the house unprotected even on 
an occasion like this. The four captains were there, 
and Griscom Brothers, and the schoolmaster, and very 
prominent among the others the butcher, wearing a 
freshly washed and starched gown, and a shining high 
silk hat. Having heard that Dolor’s husband was 
coming back with her, he did not think it necessary 

369 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


to leave the neighborhood. Behind this little group 
of friends stood the entire population of the village. 

We walked to the Tripp house in along procession, 
the baggage of the bridal pair being gladly carried by 
the four captains, the schoolmaster, Griscom Brothers, 
and the butcher. The villagers followed us for a 
short distance only. They all knew what sort of a 
woman Alwilda Tripp was. The hired man had come 
down to the station, but he had hurried back ahead 
of us, and now stood at the open gate bearing a huge 
sunflower, which he presented to Lady Crabstairs. 

donT believe there’s another person in this 
world,” said Lizeth, when we had reached the house, 
^^on whom that man would have wasted nearly a gill 
of chicken-seed.” 

We found Alwilda in the dining-room, standing 
before the huge tombstone she had painted on the 
wall. She quietly submitted to the embrace of her 
sister, and very civilly returned the salutations of the 
rest of the party. 

am very much puzzled,” she then remarked, ^To 
know what to do with that tombstone. I don’t want 
to scrape it out, because I took a great deal of pains 
with it, and yet, as things have turned out, it doesn’t 
seem to be suitable.” 

^^Who is that sprawling nigger at the foot of the 
stone with his head in a brass pan? ” asked Lord Crab- 
stairs. 

^^By that,” replied Alwilda, intended to represent 
the downfall of an African king.” 

At this we all laughed heartily, and Lord Crabstairs 
cried : 

^^Well, whatever you do, madam, paint out the 

370 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


nigger. He doesn’t suit at all. And if you want an 
inscription for your tombstone I’ll give you one : ^ Here 
lies two centuries of debt, and the devil take it ! ’” 
might put that,” said Alwilda, except the part 
about the devil. I can have instead of it ^now de- 
parted.’ ” 

think I can propose something better than that,” 
cried Doris. ^^You can cut off the top of the grave- 
stone so as to make it look like the base of a monu- 
ment, and on this you can paint a handsome column 
or obelisk. You can make a flower-bed of the fallen 
African king, and pretty vines can twine themselves 
about the base of the stone. These, with blossoming 
shrubs and flowers on each side and in the back- 
ground, will make a very cheerful picture. Then on 
the monument I propose you paint these words : ^ To 
the memory of the good ship Merry Chanter^ which — ’ ” 
She hesitated a few moments, and then said : 
cannot think of a good sentiment. Will not one of 
you help me? ” 

Griscom Brothers smiled, and in a moment said : 

Perhaps this might do: ^To the memory of the 
good ship Merry Chanter j which made slow time but 
fast friends.’ ” 

Capital ! ” said Doris. And we all agreed that this 
would be an exceedingly appropriate inscription. 

^H’ll paint it in that way,” said Alwilda. And im- 
mediately she went to work upon it. 


371 


CHAPTER XXI 

THE CHANTER” LEAVES 

SHANKASHANK BAY 

Lord and Lady Crabstairs remained with us at 
Dolores old home for a week or more, and then started 
on a short western tour. When this continuation of 
their bridal trip was completed they would sail for 
England to take possession of their small estate in 
Buckinghamshire, where, as the humblest and happiest 
of all lords and ladies, they expected to build up a 
little paradise. 

Every one of us was sorry to have them go, and each 
of us gave them some little memento. The butcher’s 
present was a beautiful new cleaver of the best steel. 

^^This sort of thing,” he said, ^^comes very handy in 
the kitchen.” 

And then speaking to me in an undertone he re- 
marked ; 

^^They say that sharp-edged tools cut love, but 
there are cases when this doesn’t matter.” 

The four captains brought queer things which they 
had picked up in distant lands, and Griscom Brothers 
put a little oyster-pie in a tin can and told them they 
must think of him when they ate it in their own 
house. 


372 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


do not need anything/’ said Dolor, ^^to make me 
remember the ghost who used to leave pies at my door.” 

haven’t anything that will do for a memento,” 
said Alwilda ; ^‘but I will paint your portraits from 
memory and send them to you.” 

^^May the ship sink that earries them!” muttered 
the butcher. 

The day after the departure of Lord and Lady 
Crabstairs, Doris and I walked down to the shore to 
look at our ship. 

^^Do you know,” said Doris to me, ^^that I am very 
much afraid the Merry Chanter will never sail again. 
I don’t believe the highest kind of tide will lift her 
now. She must have become a permanent portion of 
the earth’s surface.” 

I had long been waiting for an opportunity to assert 
myself, and to make plain to Doris the value of my 
opinions and my decisions. I considered such action 
as due to my personal dignity, and had only post- 
poned it because no proper occasion had appeared to 
offer itself. Now an occasion offered. 

There is no need of surmises on the subject,” I 
said. have positively determined that that ship is 
not fit for navigating purposes, and that we must give 
up all idea of sailing in her to any place whatever.” 

am glad you think so,” said Doris, ^^because I 
was afraid I might have some trouble in convincing 
you that now we ought not to think of such a thing as 
taking voyages in our ship. But what shall we do 
with her?” she continued. ^^But here comes the 
butcher. Let us ask him.” 

The butcher, who had been rowing from the ship, 
now ran his boat upon the beach. When Doris had 

373 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


asked his advice upon the important subject under 
consideration^ he stood for some moments holding his 
chin in his hand. 

make you an offer/^ he said. like living on 
board the schooner. It suits me first-rate. She’s got 
a splendid foundation, and will stand storms like a 
lighthouse. If you say so, I’ll buy her of you.” 

My wife and I retired a little for consideration. 

There cannot be the slightest doubt about it,” said 
Doris. ^^We should sell him the ship, for it is of no 
earthly use to us.” 

^^Yery well,” said I, ^Tet us sell it to him.” 

The butcher bought the Merry Chanter , and with the 
purchase -money in our pockets Doris and I prepared 
to leave Shankashank Bay for a little inland town, 
where we would set up a home entirely unconnected 
with maritime pursuits. 

On the morning of the day we were to leave we 
went on board the Merry Chanter for a final visit. 
The schoolmaster received us at the beach, and 
rowed us to the ship. As we stej)ped on deck the 
butcher, in whitest gown and blackest hat, received 
us with a sorrowful courtesy. Griscom Brothers was 
on board with the four old captains, who had come 
over purposely to bid us farewell. We were all there 
except the lively Lord Crabstairs and the pretty Dolor. 
The butcher thought it proper to allude to this fact. 

There is a gap among us, my friends,” he said, 
which we cannot fail to see. There are, however, 
other gaps which are not visible,” and he turned his 
face toward the sea. 

Doris walked over the ship and bade good-by to 

374 


THE MERRY CHANTER 


everything. Her own old hen, followed by a brood of 
now well-grown chickens, came clucking toward her, 
doubtless remembering former dainty repasts. The 
other poultry crowded about her, hoping to be fed, 
and the sandpiper ran along the rail by her side, his 
little eyes sparkling with the expectation of a crumb. 

She walked to the bow, and looked over at the 
wooden figure-head. 

“Good-by, dear Merry Chanter,’^ she said. “When- 
ever the winds are high, and I know there is a storm 
on the coast, I shall think of yon bravely breasting 
the waves that rush in from the sea, and shouting 
your bold sea songs out into the storm.” 

The butcher insisted upon rowing us to the shore. 
As we bade him farewell he cordially invited us to 
pay him a visit whenever we felt like breathing a 
little sea air. 

“When you are fixed and settled,” he said, “I want 
to send you— a— not exactly a present, but something 
to remind you of this part of the world.” 

Three months after this there came to our new home 
an enormous box, which gave rise to more curiosity in 
Doris and myself than we had ever felt in regard to 
any package of any shape or size. When, after an 
infinite deal of pains, the cover had been forced off 
and some wrappings removed, there we saw the Merry 
Chanter, unbolted from the bow of our ship, and sent 
by the butcher to us. 

When Doris saw it she burst into tears. 

“He shall be our household god,” she said. “As 
long as we live he shall stand in our home.” 

He stands there now. 


375 











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